“Issa,” Lady Callista began, “we must speak of this.”
“No.” Issa’s voice rang with an edge of steel. “There is nothing more to be said.”
Lady Callista’s jaw muscles worked, her teeth clenched. “I understand you are angry, but—”
“I said no.” Issa shoved off the wall, levered herself upright. “You are my Proxenos, and I follow your orders. But that is all. That is all you deserve from me.”
Aisha had no idea what the two were talking about, or what had brought about the sudden change in Issa. The Blade had gone from Lady Callista’s most loyal subordinate to something as icy and hard as the glaciers in the Frozen Sea.
Curiosity burned within Aisha, but she held her tongue. Whatever’s going on, it’s between them.
Silence stretched on for long seconds, the Blades’ gazes locked on each other—Issa’s filled with cold fury, Lady Callista’s almost pleading. But slowly, the Lady of Blades’ face hardened, her expression growing inscrutable. “Very well, if that is how you wish it, Prototopoi.” The word rang with a chill colder than the fiercest Praamian winter. “We must secure the palace, make certain all the secret tunnels are guarded.”
“Yes, Proxenos.”
Aisha winced at Issa’s voice. Her words held…nothing. No emotion, only a tone as dead as the creatures she had just hacked to shreds.
Lady Callista’s jaw clenched. “You will accompany me to the western passage to ensure they are secured.”
“Yes, Proxenos.”
Lady Callista stood stiff, her muscles tense. She turned to Aisha. “Aisha, I need you to get word to Invictus Tannard at the palace gate. I need him to send however many men he can spare to secure the Terrestra.”
Aisha’s mind flashed back to the gate. “The situation is dire enough already. I doubt the Invictus will be able to spare anyone.” She drew her dagger and assegai. “I will secure the Terrestra.”
Lady Callista cocked an eyebrow. “You know of the hidden entrance there?”
Aisha nodded. “It’s how we got into the palace to foil the assassination attempt against the Keeper’s Council yesterday.”
Yesterday.
Worry panged in her gut. She hadn’t seen Kodyn since before her foray into the Keeper’s Tomb. It seemed a lifetime ago that she’d fought beside him to drive off Hallar’s Warriors, prevent the assassination attempt against the Keeper’s Council. So much had happened since then—so many deaths, so much suffering.
She spared a moment to pray to the spirits. Please keep him safe. The Kish’aa had saved him once; they were his best hope of getting through the turmoil alive.
“If there are enemies in the Terrestra, you cannot hope to hold it alone.” Lady Callista’s face darkened. “I’m certain Tannard could spare at least a handful of Indomitables to—”
“Killian and I will help her.” Evren’s voice echoed through the hallways.
Aisha looked past Lady Callista and found Evren striding down the corridor toward her, the black-bearded, broad-shouldered Keeper’s Blade limping along beside him.
That is Killian? Aisha’s eyebrows shot up. I thought he was a blacksmith.
Evren had spoken of his partnership with Killian and his Mumblers, but that had been nearly a week earlier. Have things really changed all that much in such a short time?
Whatever this Killian’s secrets, Aisha didn’t have the time to worry about them. They faced a battle against impossible odds, with no hope of reinforcements. Blacksmith or Keeper’s Blade, she only cared that he would fight to save Shalandra and protect her friends.
Lady Callista hesitated, uncertainty written in her eyes. Yet resignation replaced doubt a moment later. The three of them were all she had to work with.
“So be it.” The Lady of Blades nodded. “May the Face of Justice smile on you all.”
Turning on her heel, she marched west down the passage, heading deeper into the palace. After a moment, Issa strode after her, spine stiff, her face a frozen mask.
Evren stared at Issa, and Killian looked as if he wanted to say something to the Blade. Yet they both held their peace. They, too, seemed to believe that whatever she wrestled with, she needed to deal with it alone, in her own way.
“Think you can keep up?” Evren asked Killian as they strode toward Aisha. The grin that tugged at his lips seemed forced, as if a bit of humor was his only weapon to push back the dread that hung like a pall over the three of them. “I might be able to find some sort of wheeled chair lying around if you’d like.”
Killian snorted. “Or I could just sit here and let you handle the battle yourself.” His retort lacked any real substance or vehemence. It was the sort of banter between warriors before a big fight—attacking each other drove back the worry of impending danger.
Aisha smiled. I could use a bit of that now. Some of Kodyn’s snarky wit to make me forget how dire things are. If they didn’t win this battle, if the palace fell to the Stumblers inside or outside the gate, all of Shalandra would fall with it.
As she turned to follow Killian and Evren, she found her way suddenly blocked by a solid wall of blue-white figures. Scores of them, hovering above the corpses strewn across the bloodstained hall, their eyes fixed on her.
Vengeance! the spirits pleaded. Their voices slammed into her mind with such force she had no need of the pendant to hear them. Give us vengeance against our tormentors!
Images flashed through her mind. A Mahjuri woman, too weak to protest, dragged into the Keeper’s Crypts. A man wearing Earaqi red succumbing to hunger and thirst, only to find himself trapped in a chamber of stone and darkness. More and more, dozens of people, all violently assaulted, captured, and imprisoned by men in splinted mail armor and dark cloaks.
Every flash of memory ended with the captives being forced to drink a dark, viscous purple liquid. Writhing, jerking, their bodies gripped by spasms of unending agony. Darkness and death, peace shattered by light.
Aisha could feel the rage of the spirits, yet it was drowned out by fear. Fear of being locked away within their minds, their bodies moving out of their control.
Horror surged within Aisha. All of them had died at the hands of Hallar’s Warriors and the Gatherers. No, not died. Been transformed into these…creatures by some evil alchemy. Living yet not truly alive, their flesh commanded by another. Death was their only escape.
Aisha cursed herself for forgetting her true purpose for being in the palace. She’d left the battle on the walls to speak with Lady Callista. The clash with Hallar’s Warriors had pushed it from her mind. Now, she had to secure the Terrestra to prevent the Stumblers from overwhelming the palace. But as soon as that was done, she would find the Lady of Blades and raise the subject.
But to save the city, she’d need every weapon at her disposal. Not only her assegai and dagger, but the power of the Kish’aa.
She called to the spirits, stretching a hand toward them. You ask for vengeance? Lend me your power, and you will have it!
The Kish’aa answered her call. The blue-white figures surged all around in a swirling vortex of pure light and power, their eyes fixed on hers, mouths agape in pleas that rang in her mind. One hand on her pendant, the other outstretched, Aisha pulled them toward her. A gasp escaped her lips as energy coursed like lightning through her veins.
“Aisha?” Evren’s voice sounded faint, distant, drowned out by the hum of the spirits in her mind. “You hurt?”
Slowly the sizzling, crackling power passed through her body and into the pendant, the fire in her veins diminishing. The world swam into focus and Aisha found Evren and Killian both staring back at her. Killian’s black-bearded face revealed only curiosity, but Evren appeared concerned. He alone among their little group of friends knew nothing of her Spirit Whisperer gifts; she hadn’t yet had a chance to explain them to him.
“I’m…fine.” It took effort to form the words. Even small movements set the power buzzing through her veins, crackles of energy that filled her with a tingling chill.
She drew in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Swallowing hard to push down the sensations, Aisha strode to catch up to the pair. Together, they hurried through the halls of the palace, east toward the Terrestra.
Once again, Aisha was struck by how quiet the palace had grown. Save for the whispers in her mind and the clack of their boots echoing off the tiled floor, the halls were empty of life and noise. It seemed so strange after the non-stop activity of her previous visits. Everyone was either fighting to save the city or hiding to save themselves.
Her worries for Kodyn returned as they reached the offices of the Necroseti—the place where the two of them had entered and clashed with the assassins intent on killing the Keeper’s Council. She pushed the worries from her mind and instead focused on studying the Blade who limped along between her and Evren.
Evren hadn’t told her much about the mysterious blacksmith Killian, only that their interests were aligned. That much was certainly true now; all in Shalandra fought to survive the storm unleashed against the city by the Iron Warlord and Groebus, the true threats.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling curious about the broad-shouldered Blade with the thick black beard, greying hair, and furtive air. Evren seemed to trust him, so Aisha told herself the man deserved a chance. That didn’t mean she’d just accept him at face value. She would keep an eye on him, see what she could learn about him. His words would prove far less about his character than his actions.
Down the hall they went, and through the door that led into the Terrestra. The bright noon daylight seemed to fill the gardens with an almost magical atmosphere, the lush greenery a soothing sight that brought a smile to her face. It’s nice to know that despite all the chaos in the city, there are still places of beauty and peace.
That peace would only last if they could get to the secret entrance and close it before any Stumblers got in.
A sharp tug on Aisha’s arms set her immediately on alert. The Kish’aa flooded her mind with their cries for vengeance. She could feel them pulling her deeper into the Terrestra, in the direction of the Serenii tunnels.
The spirits had sensed the presence of their tormentors, the ones that had turned them from humans into creatures of nightmare. Now, they demanded their vengeance, justice for what was done to them.
And Aisha would give it to them.
She spun to face Evren and Killian. “There are enemies ahead,” she whispered. “Hallar’s Warriors for certain, likely Stumblers as well.”
Both men narrowed their eyes. “And you know this, how?” Killian asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Aisha said. “For now, it’s enough to know that we’ve got a battle ahead. Killian, you take care of any Stumblers in the Terrestra. Your armor will protect you. Evren, stay with him, watch his back.”
Killian raised an eyebrow, as if surprised to hear her giving him orders. Yet he held his tongue—the stakes of what would happen if they failed here trumped things as foolish as chain of command.
“What about you?” Evren asked.
“I’m going to find Hallar’s Warriors and close the passage.” Aisha tightened her grip on her weapons. “They’re the real problem. If we can get that door shut, the Stumblers will be trapped in the tunnels. One less enemy to worry about.” With the horde attacking the palace gate, Tannard and his Indomitables had trouble enough to face.
“A sound plan.” Killian nodded.
“Mistress’ luck smile on you!” Evren said with a grin, holding out a hand. “Make the bastards pay.”
“Hit them hard, and don’t stop hitting until they’re dead, right?” Aisha clasped his hand. Their gazes locked, and in Evren’s eyes Aisha saw worry for her friends reflected there. They both knew how dire the situation was, but that didn’t stop them from feeling concern for Kodyn, Briana, and Hailen.
Releasing Evren’s grip, Aisha turned and padded across the soft grass, toward the dense foliage. She could move far faster and with far less noise than the heavily-armored Blade. With the guidance of the Kish’aa, she’d find Hallar’s Warriors and put an end to their treachery. Close the passage, get rid of any Stumblers.
She followed the tug on her body, trusting the spirits to guide her as they had in the past. They would lead her to the guilty.
A flash of movement ahead and to her right caught her eye, and she tensed in expectation of a battle. Yet the spirits didn’t pull her toward the figures—instead, they recoiled, repulsed.
Stumblers. She gave the creatures a wide berth. Killian and Evren could handle the creatures. She had a different enemy to fight. The true threat.
With every step, the voices of the spirits echoed louder in her mind, their anger rising to such a driving intensity that it set Aisha’s hands trembling. She could feel the presences ahead in the garden, and the Kish’aa guided her toward them like a needle drawn to lodestone.
Then she saw them: three men in splinted armor, carrying black Shalandran steel swords taken from the Keeper’s Crypts. Instead of following their Stumblers, they moved east through the Terrestra.
Aisha sucked in a silent breath as she realized their true target. Their path would take them directly to the entrance to the Terrestra, and beyond it the palace gate. Behind them, lurching along in their wake, came scores of ragged, emaciated creatures.
A sneak attack! Hallar’s Warriors intended to fall on the Indomitables from the rear, catch them off-guard. With the Stumblers as a distraction, the three militants might even be able to get the gate open. Even if that failed, it would divert enough soldiers from the gate and the ramparts that the Stumblers outside could overwhelm the defenders.
Not if we have anything to say about it. The Kish’aa flared bright and hot within her, energy crackling along the length of her arms. She burst through the dense trees and charged the militants.
They never saw or heard her coming until it was too late.
Thrusting out her hand, Aisha summoned the power of the spirits to her fingers. Forty blue-white sparks leapt through the air and slammed into the three militants at the head of the Stumbler horde. The impact hurled them backward with such force that they bowled twenty Stumblers over. The stink of charred hair, flesh, and leather rose from the jerking, twitching forms of the militants as the Kish’aa burned through their bodies.
Yet the Kish’aa weren’t finished with just Hallar’s Warriors. They leapt from the bodies of the militants and danced from Stumbler to Stumbler, a wall of brilliant light that blasted the creatures backward. All of the Stumblers collapsed and lay writhing as the militants had. But instead of scorching the Stumblers to death as they had with the militants, the power of the spirits flowed through the creatures’ veins, toward their hearts, and up to their brains.
Aisha sucked in a breath. They were doing exactly what Thimara had done with Kodyn in the Heartspring!
The Stumblers fell still, like marionettes with their strings severed. A deathly silence filled the Terrestra—the rasping, gurgling cries and the swishing of bare feet through tall grass suddenly cut off in an instant. Aisha heard only the beat of her heart, the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
The battle had ended.
Aisha raced past the unmoving forms toward the hidden entrance to the Serenii tunnel. She triggered the gemstone that would seal the door and it slowly rumbled closed, leaving only blank stone walls where there had once been an opening.
Relief surged through Aisha, and she leaned against the wall. Exhaustion dragged at her mind and turned her muscles to lead, yet she felt a glow of triumph. The Stumblers would no longer threaten the Terrestra.
The sound of a snapping twig behind her brought her whirling around. The Stumblers hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted. But they weren’t dead. Their chests still rose and fell in a steady rhythm. They still lived.
Aisha’s brow furrowed. What happened?
The spirits had burned through the Stumblers, yet instead of killing them, they had simply rendered them unconscious.
Not all of th
em. Aisha tensed as one of the figures shifted, stirred, and pushed herself up on one arm. She tightened her grip on her dagger and assegai, preparing to leap forward and finish off the creature.
But the eyes that turned to her were no longer milk-white. Confusion darkened the woman’s brown eyes as she fixed her gaze on Aisha. A short distance away, a second Stumbler, a man with a blue Alqati headband, moved as well, sitting up and looking around, dazed.
Aisha gasped as the woman opened her mouth.
“Please,” the woman said, her voice hoarse yet unmistakably human. “Help us!”
Chapter Seventeen
Kodyn hit the stone rooftop, rolled with the impact, and came up to his feet in a smooth move. In an instant, he took off racing toward the southern edge of the Temple of Prosperity.
“Give me that rope!” he said to Lunus, careful to keep quiet. Glancing back toward the Temple of Whispers, he found Stumblers lurching around, aimless. A few had tried to pursue him, only to plummet off the temple roof and crash to the streets below. To his relief, he’d avoided drawing the attention of the main herd flooding the Temple District. Still, getting off the roof would prove challenging even under the best of circumstances.
Hawks spent their nine-year apprenticeship learning how to climb ropes and ladders, but most people had no clue how to safely ascend or descend a rope. The two-story drop to the muddy, Stumbler-infested back alley behind the Temple of Whispers likely appeared a daunting prospect to Hailen, Briana, and some of the less robust Secret Keepers.
Ennolar was one such. The Arch-Guardian cast an apprehensive look into the alleyway as Kodyn set about securing the back-up rope, brought at his insistence, to the crossbow bolt that anchored this end of the aerial walkway.
“You certain of this?” Ennolar signed. “That’s a long way down.”
Kodyn grinned. “Best way to get away from the Stumblers.” He, too, spoke in the silent hand language—best to avoid any unnecessary sound that could draw the creatures’ attention. “We get down into the alley, get clear of the big herd, and find a way to the nearest entrance. The Serenii tunnels ought to get us up to the palace and safety.”
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