For a moment, shock and horror held the boys petrified.
“Now!” Killian roared.
The shout snapped the Mumblers from their stupor. They nearly collapsed over each other in their hurry to race out of the smithy—to obey Killian’s order or escape the sight of their dead comrade, it didn’t matter.
Evren turned to Killian. The blacksmith’s bronzed face had gone pale, his brow furrowed as he moved toward the corpse.
“No!” Evren seized the man’s huge wrist and hauled him back mid-step.
Killian rounded on him and tried to tug his hand free. “I need to see—“
“No!” Evren refused to release his grip. “If you get too close, the miasma released by the body could get you, too.” He was no Ministrant or Trouvere, but he’d learned of what the Lecterns called “miasmatic theory” during his years in the Master’s Temple. Every corpse released noxious vapors, or a miasma, that spread disease. “One breath and you’ll wind up dead like him!”
Killian growled but made no move to approach the body. After a moment, he shook off Evren’s hand and limped toward the door without a word.
“Where are you going?” Evren called.
“It’s none of your concern,” Killian responded without looking back.
Evren leapt forward and interposed himself in the doorway. “You’re going to the Slaves’ Tier, aren’t you? To the safe house that he just came from?” He thrust a finger toward the body in the middle of the smithy.
Killian’s expression hardened. “I need to see the others for myself.”
“Are you insane?” Evren demanded. “You want to go toward the sickness?”
“They are my Mumblers!” Fury burned in Killian’s dark eyes. “I swore to protect them, just as they swore their loyalty to help me. I owe it to them to at least try!”
The man’s words added fuel to the fire of Evren’s curiosity. Who the hell is Killian, really? The question had plagued him since the encounter with Issa, the Keeper’s Blade that had fought beside them to rescue Killian from the clutches of the Ybrazhe Syndicate. Issa and Killian had recognized each other, and there had been a real spark of familiarity, even friendship between the young Blade and the middle-aged blacksmith.
Then there was the matter of his fighting skills. When trapped by the Ybrazhe, Killian had removed the brace supporting his lame left leg and used it to form a strange triple staff—a weapon he’d wielded with impressive skill.
Now, he revealed another trait uncommon among other self-styled thiefmasters Evren had met over his hard years on the streets of Vothmot. He had a sort of innate nobility, a devotion to those loyal to him that exceeded that of a master to his underlings. The worry in his eyes revealed genuine interest in his Mumblers, similar to how commanders worried about their trusted soldiers.
Just one more layer to the enigma.
Yet now wasn’t the time to worry about Killian. They had more important things to deal with—like the matter of dead and dying Mumblers.
“Fine,” Evren said, but he made no move to step out of the doorway. “But I’m going with you.”
Killian’s expression darkened, and for a moment Evren feared the blacksmith might simply barrel through him. The man was twice his weight, half a hand taller, and far broader in the shoulders, with arms and hands heavy with muscle.
Yet Evren wouldn’t be cowed. He met the man’s anger with calm defiance. “We’re partners, Killian. That means we’re in this together. If your people are suffering, I’ll do what I can to help.”
The sight of the boy on the floor had sent his mind racing toward Daver, the young apprentice that had escaped the Master’s Temple with him. Daver had been weaker and smaller than Evren, defenseless against the threats facing him in the Temple and on the streets. Evren had fought to protect Daver—he’d damn well do the same for these youths, who had no one but Killian to look out for them.
After a moment, Killian threw up his hands. “Fine, just get the fiery hell out of my way!”
With a nod, Evren stepped out of the way. “Let’s go.”
Scowling, Killian stomped from the forge. Evren fell in beside him, his pace matching the blacksmith’s limping gait easily. He didn’t bother trying to engage the man in conversation—the storm in Killian’s eyes and the permanent glower told Evren exactly what he was thinking. He worried for his Mumblers, and with good reason.
A handful of Mumblers shadowed them down Smith’s Alley, west along the Artificer’s Courseway, and through Industry Square. By the time they turned south to descend Trader’s Way, nearly fifteen of the young boys tailed them. None approached—word of Undon’s demise must have spread among them like wildfire.
Killian’s limp made for slow progress, and the sun had just begun its descent toward the western horizon by the time they reached the Slaves’ Tier. The golden afternoon brilliance made the squat, crumbling buildings appear even more weathered. Dust seemed to cover everything, washing out any trace of color and painting the lowest level of Shalandra in a pale veneer that brought to mind Undon’s face as the Azure Rot claimed him.
Evren’s gut clenched. What will we find in the safe house? One look at Killian’s brooding expression made it clear the smith’s thoughts ran along the same vein.
Killian stumped east along the Way of Chains, toward the section of Shalandra reserved for the Kabili slave caste. Just before reaching Auctioneer’s Square, he turned south down a side street that connected to a narrow, debris-clogged lane just short of the wall ringing Shalandra’s southernmost edge.
The blacksmith’s steps led straight toward the door of a decrepit single-story building with collapsing stone walls, sagging thatch, and crumbling steps. No Mumblers were in sight, but Evren instinctively knew that this was the safe house.
He steeled himself before entering, and even still he was unprepared for the sight that awaited him. Twenty children, none older than Hailen, lay silent and lifeless on the floor. Blood trickled from the corners of their wide-staring eyes and gaping mouths, dried and crusted atop the still-oozing sores that stained their hands, faces, and ragged bodies a foul azure. They had died hours before and the reek of corpses left to rot in the sun assaulted Evren’s nostrils.
His stomach roiled so violently he staggered out of the building and into the fresh air, struggling to keep down the meager contents of his stomach. He gasped for air and leaned on his knees, his legs trembling. Yet, try as he might to clear the image of those bodies from his mind, he could not. He doubted he ever would.
He’d seen men die, even sent a few to their deaths with his own hands. He’d watched his own mother die of the Bloody Flux, her body ravaged by dysentery, dehydration, and spine-shaking fever. None of that could compare to the sheer horror of seeing those blue-blistered husks that had once been living, breathing children. Children like Hailen.
Killian emerged a few seconds later. The blacksmith’s strong face had gone ashen, his dark eyes tinged with grief and horror. His shoulders stooped beneath an immense burden and he sat heavily, muttering something Evren didn’t catch.
“What’s that?” Evren asked.
“This…” Killian lifted sorrow-filled eyes to Evren. “This isn’t the Rot.”
Evren had seen those suffering from the Azure Rot. “Are you sure?” His face scrunched up. “There’s no mistaking those blisters. And the way it ravages their bodies is—“
Killian shook his head. “It’s too fast. The Azure Rot should have taken weeks to kill them, days at the very least.” His expression grew haunted, as if at a painful memory. “Some unfortunate souls have lived in agony for years.”
He fell silent, a vacant look in his eyes.
Pity set Evren’s chest aching. Who did he lose to the Rot? That expression reeked of loss—the same look that filled Briana’s eyes when speaking of her father.
“This is something different.” Killian’s tone grew ominous. “Something worse. And we’re going to find out what.”
Evren raised an
eyebrow. “We are? Don’t you think it’s a job better-suited for the Trouveres? And, we’re not exactly without troubles of our own.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “We’re in the middle of Ybrazhe territory, and you just finished saying that the Syndicate’s coming after you.”
“We will deal with Blackfinger and his thugs, too,” Killian growled. “But I cannot let this go unanswered. The Mumblers…” He swallowed hard. “My Mumblers, they deserve better than to die like this. And this new plague, if it goes unchecked, it could kill thousands. Fiery hell, it could kill everyone in Shalandra!”
Evren hesitated. They did have bigger problems to deal with than a plague: the Ybrazhe Syndicate, the Gatherers, the Necroseti and the Keeper’s Council, not to mention his mission to steal the Blade of Hallar. He’d come to Shalandra to get his hands on the Im’tasi weapon, which would aid the Hunter in his quest to save the world from the Great Devourer.
Yet a part of him knew Killian was right. If it was Hailen lying there, I’d do the exact same thing. Hell, I wouldn’t rest until I found a solution. Even if this new form of the Azure Rot was contained to the Slaves’ Tier, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t eventually spread to the rest of the city. The same Flux that killed Evren’s mother had devastated Vothmot, claiming more than five thousand souls—men and women, children and the aged, from the lowest beggar on the streets to members of the Caliph’s own household. Hailen, Briana, Kodyn, and Aisha might not be safe even in the sanctuary of the Temple of Whispers.
“So be it.” He blew out a long breath. “We’ll deal with the Syndicate and find the reason for this new Rot.”
“Good.” Killian nodded, his expression subdued, yet a hint of gratitude sparkled in his eyes. “I’ve got contacts among the Ministrants and the Trouveres I can reach out to. They’ll know about this for certain.”
Ministrants served the Bright Lady, goddess of healing. The white-robed sisters at the Sanctuary dedicated their lives to ministering to the infirm and suffering.
The Trouveres were priests of the Bloody Minstrel, god of sickness, plague, and horrible music. While their fellow priests, the Malady Singers, roamed at will to deliver bloodstone amulets said to ward off disease, Trouveres were only permitted to leave their temple, the Hall of the Cruori, in time of mass outbreaks. Their bird-faced masks, with curving beaks and dark black eyes, kept out the miasmas of the bodies they collected and carted away for disposal. They followed in death’s wake when their counterparts and the Ministrants failed to ward off the Long Keeper’s gaze.
Evren couldn’t help shuddering—the last time he’d seen those horrible masks, his mother had been one of those carted away.
He swallowed hard. “If it helps, I can talk to the Secret Keepers. Maybe they’ll know something.” A scant hope, yet he had to do something before the Azure Rot claimed more lives. Lives that could include the people he cared about if the plague spread out of control.
Killian’s frown knitted his bushy eyebrows together, but he nodded. “So be it.” He stood, slowly, and Evren was surprised by how much the man appeared to have aged in the last minute. The grey in his beard and hair stood in starker contrast than it had moments earlier. In place of the efficient warrior that had driven off the Syndicate thugs the previous night stood an old man weighed down by the burdens of his past…and present.
He opened his mouth to continue, but before he could, one of the Mumblers ran up to him. The boy whispered something Evren couldn’t hear.
“Thank you.” Killian nodded at the boy. “Find the others. Tell them to pull out of the Slaves’ Tier unless absolutely necessary. Blackfinger’s going to be on the war path soon.”
“Yes, Killian.” The boy turned and scampered away, disappearing down a side street, heading north toward the Way of Chains.
Evren cocked an eyebrow. “What was that?”
“Business,” Killian replied, his tone brusque, reticent. “But I’ll send word to the Sanctuary and the Hall of the Cruori at once.”
The clear dismissal in Killian’s tone rankled, but Evren swallowed his irritation. After what the blacksmith had just endured—torture and near-death at the hands of the Ybrazhe and now the deaths of twenty Mumblers—Evren could bite his tongue.
“Guess that means I’m off to the Temple of Whispers,” he said.
Killian nodded. “I’ll leave a few Mumblers posted around the Temple District. The moment you get anything—“
Evren held up a hand. “Get word to you, yes, I know.”
“We must stop this plague and soon.” A shadow passed over the blacksmith’s dark eyes and his tone grew ominous. “If we fail, this new form of the Azure Rot may very well kill everyone.”
Shalandra truly would be the City of the Dead.
Storm of Chaos
(Heirs of Destiny Book 3)
Against a rising tide of violence, heroes must risk everything for justice and peace.
Rumblings of discord echo through the City of the Dead…
Kodyn hunts the assassin that thwarted his efforts to bring down the most corrupt and powerful politicians in the city.
Elite warrior-in-training Issa is thrust into a desperate battle to quell spreading riots.
Cunning street thief Evren plots to eradicate the ruthless crime syndicate profiting from the violence.
Aisha finds herself drawn deeper into the world of the spirits. Her growing powers could lead to madness—or the salvation of everyone in Shalandra.
Together, the four young heroes and their allies must fight to bring peace and justice before their enemies unleash a storm of chaos, bloodshed, and death.
Click now to continue the quest! Andy Peloquin delivers another spine-tingling, emotion-packed fantasy epic that will have you on the edge of your seat.
In the Heirs of Destiny series:
Trial of Stone (Book 1) – Jan 22, 2019
Crucible of Fortune (Book 2) –Feb 5, 2019
Storm of Chaos (Book 3) – Feb 19, 2019
Secrets of Blood (Book 4) – Mar 19, 2019
Ascension of Death (Book 5) – Apr 16, 2019
AND BONUS:
The Renegade Apprentice (Book 6) May 14 <--Evren’s Prequel Novella
Try the Prequel Novella for FREE
Connecting and starting a relationship with readers is why I got into writing in the first place. I love that my stories, thoughts, feelings, and emotions to resonate with you, but I’d also love to get to know you, the reader, personally—or as personally as this crazy internet/email/social media world allows.
My VIP Reader List is exactly how I get to do that. I let you know more about me, and you tell me about you. Plus, you get to find out what books I’m reading and enjoying, updates on works in progress, special deals, and other bits of news relating to me and my world (fictional and real-life).
If you sign up, you get a free copy of Evren’s prequel novella, The Renegade Apprentice
A desperate breakout. A perilous life on the streets. A fight to the death.
Evren’s life as an apprentice priest is an endless torment, until he seizes the chance to escape his slavery. But his freedom, and his life, may be cut very short because the dark alleys of Vothmot hold their own dangers...some deadlier than others!
Sign up for my VIP Reader List
and read the prequel novella for FREE
Enjoy More Series by Andy Peloquin
Plus, get backstory and insight into the epic Heirs of Destiny characters!
For more of Kodyn’s origin story,
read Queen of Thieves
"They killed my parents. They took my name. They imprisoned me in darkness. I would not be broken."
Viola, a child sold to pay her father's debts, has lost everything: her mother, her home, and her identity. Thrown into a life among criminals, she has no time for grief as she endures the brutal training of an apprentice thief. The Night Guild molds an innocent waif into a cunning, agile outlaw skilled in the thieves' trade. She has only one choice: steal enough
to pay her debts.
The cutthroat streets of Praamis will test her mettle, and she must learn to dodge the City Guards or swing from a hangman's rope. But a more dangerous foe lurks within the guild walls. A sadistic rival apprentice, threatened by her strength, is out for blood.
What hope does one girl have in a world of ruthless men?
Fans of Sarah J. Maas, Scott Lynch, and Brent Weeks will love Queen of Thieves…
Book 1: Child of the Night Guild
Book 2: Thief of the Night Guild
Book 3: Queen of the Night Guild
To read about Aisha’s trials,
try Traitors’ Fate:
One Death Changes Two Cities Forever
Ilanna, Master of the Night Guild, has waged a war for eight years to cleanse her city of the rival criminal organization that nearly destroyed it. When she uncovers a ring of slavers trafficking young girls for sexual servitude around the continent, she is forced to venture into the city of Voramis, the seat of her enemy's power, to hunt down the true culprit and put an end to the enslavement of innocents.
But her enemies will not be so easily eliminated. She must turn to the one man certain to get the job done: the Hunter, legendary assassin of Voramis.
The Hunter willingly accepts a fortune in gold to kill one of the richest men in his city. A mansion fortress and a private army should prove no match for his inhuman abilities.
But as he stalks his target, he unmasks a bloodthirsty conspiracy in the guise of a holy mission. If he doesn't stop the men responsible, the gruesome murders will continue and people—including those he has sworn to protect—will die.
Note: This book is a standalone that takes place after the events of Queen of Thieves Book 3.
Traitors’ Fate (Queen of Thieves/Hero of Darkness Crossover)
Crucible of Fortune: An Epic Fantasy Young Adult Adventure (Heirs of Destiny Book 2) Page 44
