The fourth Stumbler lurched toward Kodyn. Ducking its swiping claws, Kodyn thrust his sword into its throat. The blade punched through gristle and severed the thing’s spinal cord. It sagged, body thumping hard on the dusty alley.
Stone rumbled on stone behind him, and Kodyn spun just in time to see the secret door sliding open. Fear drove a dagger of acid into his gut as two Stumblers lurched out of the tunnel. Thevoris barely had time to backpedal before the creatures were on him. Claw-like fingernails raked for his face, his eyes, his throat. Thevoris reacted with impressive speed; two quick strikes shattered a pair of outstretched arms, and a bare-handed uppercut snapped the creature’s neck. Kodyn threw himself at the second Stumbler and drove his dagger into the base of its skull.
What in the frozen hell? Kodyn’s mind raced as he stared down at the dead creature. Are all the tunnels filled with Stumblers?
It seemed Hallar’s Warriors had not only unleashed the monstrosities on the Temple of Whispers, but all of Shalandra. If the Stumblers were in the entire network of Serenii tunnels, their path to the palace would be cut off.
Yet, as he glanced into the dimly lit tunnels, he saw no sign of more Stumblers. No gurgling, rasping cries, only silence. Maybe these just wandered off from the main herd and got lost in the tunnels. It was a faint hope, but he clung to it like a drowning man on flotsam. They still had a chance of reaching the palace.
He whirled back toward his friends, and his eyes flew wide as he caught sight of the scores of Stumblers lurching along in pursuit. “Hurry!” he shouted.
A single glance backward was all it took to infuse them with new strength. One by one, they raced into the tunnels. Ryneos and Thevoris waited until the others had passed before ducking in themselves. Kodyn leapt through the open door and triggered the gemstone that sealed it from the inside. The heavy stone rumbled slowly closed—too slowly, Kodyn realized. The slow-moving horde would be on them before the door was sealed.
“Lunus!” He whirled toward the Secret Keeper beside him. “Give me a Thunderstriker!”
Lunus acted without hesitation. He tore one of the clay orbs from its straw bed and handed it to Kodyn. Kodyn spun, ripped out the string, and hurled it toward the oncoming Stumblers. A moment of silence, shattered by a deafening BOOM as the Thunderstriker exploded. Shards of shattered clay whistled through the streets, shredding Stumblers, and the thunderclap knocked them back.
The explosion was echoed by another, louder, from far in the distance. A pillar of fire shot up into the air, leaving behind a thick black plume of smoke that darkened the sky. It came from the Temple of Whispers.
Kodyn’s blood turned to ice. That was too large to be a small explosion; something of that size could only be total devastation.
The Temple of Whispers had fallen.
The thunderous report of the explosion faded as the door rumbled closed. Kodyn turned to face the Secret Keepers. “They fought to the end,” he said. “They honored their goddess in life, and now in death.”
“And now in death,” Ennolar’s fingers echoed Kodyn’s sentiment. “May the Mistress smile on them and offer them comfort as they journey to the Long Keeper’s arms.”
In the crimson light of the glowstones, the faces of the Secret Keepers appeared grim, dour, etched deep with lines of sorrow.
Kodyn, too, felt the sorrow. The Secret Keepers had sacrificed themselves for a noble purpose: in service of their goddess. They had chosen to make a stand for what they believed. That alone made their deaths honorable.
But now wasn’t the time to mourn. The priests could grieve the fallen later, once they were safely within the palace.
Now, they had to sneak or fight their way through an army of Stumblers. An impossible task, yet it was the only hope—for them, and all of Shalandra.
Chapter Eighteen
Anger burned like a towering inferno within Issa, a wildfire that refused to cool. The black-armored figure striding beside her only added to the flames of her fury.
She has the gall to tell me she sent me away for my own sake? Issa had never had a choice of her upbringing, but she could choose how to accept what Lady Callista had said.
A part of her ached to take Lady Callista at her word. She had little doubt that the Keeper’s Council would have tried to use her against the Pharus and the Lady of Blades. The Necroseti had been willing to unleash the Azure Rot upon their people, sacrifice thousands in the chaos. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill one more infant, especially if that infant posed a threat to their power.
That decision, she could accept. But she hated the fact that she felt cheated, scorned. Lady Callista had made a fool of her by keeping her secrets. She’d looked Issa in the eye and lied to her time and time again. She had withheld from Issa the most important truth and in doing so, shattered every shred of Issa’s trust.
A question rang in her mind. What else is Lady Callista keeping from me? As Proxenos of the Keeper’s Blades and commander of the Indomitables, the Lady of Blades doubtless had a myriad of secrets better kept hidden. But what other life-shattering truths had she concealed from Issa, truths that she needed to know? This isn’t just secret missions or sensitive information—it’s the truth of my Keeper-damned parents.
Despite herself, Issa found her eyes drifting sideways toward the towering figure at her side. No, not towering, not as much as Issa had once believed. Lady Callista stood only a few fingers taller than her. Though she lacked the woman’s breadth and strength, she recognized the iron will that drove Lady Callista—the same will that had kept her training in secret with Killian in defiance of her grandparents’ wishes, the will that refused to crumble beneath Tannard’s cruelties. She’d always believed that trait had been instilled in her by Nytano; perhaps it was, but she’d inherited it from Lady Callista as well.
The more Issa looked, the more she saw the resemblance to herself—the same strong jawline, the solid nose, the shape of her dark eyes, even the tilt of her brow. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. Now, it was all she saw.
Issa hated herself, but she wanted Lady Callista to be her mother. She’d wanted parents for so long. Now she had them, but had no idea what to do. How could she have a relationship with the Lady of Blades and the Pharus himself?
The rasping, gurgling cries of Stumblers from around a nearby corner pulled her from her stupor. The threat shoved her doubts into the back of her mind. Enemies meant battle, and battle meant a short reprieve from the confusion. Drawing her flammard, Issa raced down the corridor toward the adjoining hall.
Lady Callista called out. “Issa, wait for—”
But Issa was already tearing around the corner, so fast she slammed into the nearest shambling figure. The creature was too close to cut down, but Issa brought her elbow whipping around, slashing her spikes across the creature’s cheeks and mouth. The monstrosity stumbled back and to one side, but seemed not to register the pain of its mangled face. It came at her again, reached grasping fingers toward Issa, its pure white eyes fixed on her face.
Issa refused to give ground. Seizing her flammard with her left hand, she brought the curving edge of her blade slashing across the creature’s throat. Crimson misted in the air and sprayed her face, warm and hot. The creature fell back, staggered, and collapsed as its life blood drained away. It slipped back, crashed into two of its oncoming companions, and sagged to the ground.
But more and more monstrosities flooded the hall toward her. Dozens of them, horrid creatures with pale, waxy faces, white eyes, and fingers tipped with claw-like fingernails. They surged toward her, arms outstretched, intent on bringing her down and tearing her limb from limb. Issa spun, shook, and twisted, trying to break their holds on her. Her heavy boots slipped on the blood-slicked tiles and she crashed to the ground. Her head struck hard and her helmet spun free, spilling her hair onto the ground. Heavy bodies fell atop her as the creatures clawed for her neck, her eyes, her throat.
Blood sprayed again, washing over Issa in a gory mist. B
ut it was not her blood; the Stumblers atop her fell away, hacked to bits by a sword of pure Shalandran steel.
Lady Callista stood between Issa and the horde of enemies. Her black steel blade wove a wall of death that none of the slow-moving creatures could escape. The razor-sharp edge of her flammard severed hands, cut away fingers, hacked through bone. Stumblers fell in twos and threes, each powerful stroke of Lady Callista’s sword carving destruction into their hideous bodies.
Issa struggled against the weight of her armor, leaning on her sword and the wall for support. She managed to climb to her feet in time to avoid a Stumbler that sagged, headless, and collapsed where she’d been lying a moment earlier.
With a growl, Issa leapt into the battle beside Lady Callista. The Lady of Blades said nothing, simply spared a worried glance for her, and settled into the rhythm of battle. Together, they hacked down the Stumblers with deadly precision. But instead of fighting shoulder to shoulder, Lady Callista seemed to be fighting around Issa, her blows filling in the gaps. When Issa swung high, Lady Callista’s low chop severed a Stumbler’s legs at the knee. A wild strike carried Issa too far forward, but the Lady of Blades was there at her side, helping her remain upright and fending off the Stumblers.
Side by side, two Keeper’s Blades, chosen by the god of death, mother and daughter. Black steel blurred as they moved in perfect harmony, twin notes in the ringing song of death.
A flash of movement at the end of the hall caught Issa’s attention. Behind the ranks of Stumblers, she spotted three men standing beside the open door to the Serenii tunnels. All three held crossbows raised, pointed directly at the Lady of Blades.
Time slowed to a crawl as Issa’s gaze traveled to the woman beside her. Lady Callista was mid-stroke, committed to a blow that would shear through a pair of Stumbler arms. No way she’d recover in time to see the crossbow bolts, much less deflect or dodge them.
In that instant, Issa’s anger evaporated. She forgot her resentment, her feelings of betrayal. The bitter taste of outrage faded from her mouth. The hurt of feeling scorned and deceived was washed away in a burst of cold, hard truth: Lady Callista’s life—her mother’s life—was in danger.
A face flashed through her mind: once-strong, glowing with life, now pale and wan in death. Her Saba, lying on the ground, his eyes closed and his features so terribly still. She had lost one parent in this battle.
I just found her! The thought slammed into Issa. I can’t lose her, too.
Three crossbow strings twanged. Issa was moving before she realized it. She leapt forward, hurling her body between the Lady of Blades and the speeding missiles.
Pain exploded in her chest and side. She crashed into the wall and fell hard, slamming her head against the tiled floor. The world spun wildly around her, yet she heard the scream echoing through the hall.
“Issa!” Lady Callista’s voice rang with fear—not for herself, but for her daughter. A moment later, the cry turned into a roar of rage, underscored by shrieks of pain.
Issa blinked to push back the dizziness. Pain lanced her chest and side, and a sharp ache set her head ringing. Swallowing the surge of acid rising to her throat, Issa struggled to push herself up onto one arm. Slowly, the world swam into vision, her vision clearing. Lifting her head, Issa stared down the corridor in the direction of the cries.
The Stumblers were dead, severed limbs and truncated torsos lying in pools of their own blood. Lady Callista fought the three Hallar’s Warriors. The militants had abandoned their crossbows and drawn flammards, stolen from the Keeper’s Crypts. Armed with good Shalandran steel, trained in the Institutes of the Seven Faces, they were no match for the Lady of Blades.
Lady Callista’s first strike crashed into one man’s sword with such force the blade struck him in the face, cutting his cheek and forehead to the bone. The Lady of Blades slapped aside a thrust with her gauntleted fist, blocked a follow-up from the third man, and drove the tip of her flammard into the second militant’s chest. The tip punched through armor, flesh, and bone with such force it exploded out his back in a spray of blood and viscera. Lady Callista didn’t bother tearing the weapon free; she released her grip on her sword hilt, spun, and seized the third man’s throat in both powerful hands. A quick jerk, a loud snap of the militant’s neck, and another corpse sagged.
The first man cried out and fell back, hands pressed to the gaping wound in the side of his face.
“Mercy!” he cried, his ruined cheeks mangling the word.
Snarling, Lady Callista ripped her sword free and brought it swinging around so quickly the man never saw it coming. Black steel tore through his forearms and neck with terrible ease. The man’s severed head and hands rolled down the hall, splashing through the puddles of Stumbler blood.
Issa groaned as a stabbing pain punched into her side. She fumbled at her chest, trying to feel for the crossbow bolt, to stop the flow of blood.
“Issa!” The Lady of Blades was suddenly at Issa’s side, kneeling, dark eyes filled with worry. “What in the fiery hell was that?”
“Saved…your life.” Issa’s voice came out weak; the tightness in her chest made it hard to draw breath. “You’re…welcome.”
Confusion twisted her face as her questing fingers found no wound, no warm trickle of blood. Lifting her head, Issa blinked down at her chest. The three crossbow bolts had dented her breastplate, but the Shalandran steel held.
The Lady of Blades fixed her with an angry glare. “That was a stupid thing to do, Prototopoi! The sort of thing that gets you killed.”
Issa looked up at the woman. “It was…my duty…Proxenos.”
Lady Callista’s face tightened. “Of course.” Her expression hardened, the emotion fading from her eyes. She seemed to retreat into herself, once more becoming Issa’s commander. “It was a foolish risk nonetheless.”
Issa shook her head. “Hykos…told me…armor can stop…a crossbow bolt.”
“One.” Lady Callista held up a finger. “Not three!”
Issa shrugged, a movement that sent pain racing through her chest. “I…couldn’t just…stand by.” Hykos had told her the armor would protect her from crossbows, but she’d only remembered it after she hurled herself in the way. She had acted as she’d been trained to do. As her heart insisted she had to.
She gave Lady Callista a weak smile. “I couldn’t…let you die.”
Lady Callista’s face softened, and a glimmer of emotion sparkled in her eye.
“Nytano…my Saba,” Issa said, “it was him…that made me do it.”
Lady Callista’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Issa’s voice grew stronger as the pain in her chest diminished. “His final words to me were…to forgive you. You did what you thought was best.”
Sorrow and remorse twisted Lady Callista’s expression. She bowed her head, and tears sparkled in her eyes. “I did.” She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “By the Long Keeper, though it killed me, I did. I swear it, Issa.”
Now she lifted her head and fixed Issa with that piercing gaze of hers. Her eyes held Issa transfixed, and suddenly the truth of that look rang in Issa’s mind. A mother looking at the daughter she never dreamed she’d have. A look filled with her love for me.
“I swear that if I had any other choice, I never would have done it.” Lady Callista’s jaw clenched. “But I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I couldn’t let the Keeper’s Council hurt you, or your father.”
“Is that why you hate him?” Issa cocked her head. “Because you had to give me up for his sake?”
Lady Callista’s shoulders drooped “No. The Pharus…” She trailed off. “I don’t hate him. I could never hate him, not truly. Not when he gave me the best thing I’ve ever had.” She took Issa’s hand in hers. “He’s the only reason I had you.”
A torrent of emotions thickened Issa’s throat. She could find no words to express what she felt—joy, anger, bitterness, hope, relief, excitement all warred within her.
“I can
only imagine what you must be feeling,” Lady Callista said, “what you must be wrestling with in your heart. I know you must feel betrayed by everything I’ve done. Not just when you were born, but now, during your time as a Keeper’s Blade.” She tightened her grip on Issa’s mailed hand. “But I swear, on the Seven Faces and my eternity in the Long Keeper’s arms, that I will do everything in my power to make it right. Even if you spend every day hating me, know that I will spend every day loving you. I can endure your hate if—”
Issa threw her arms around Lady Callista’s neck and pulled her tight. Pain lanced through her bruised flesh, but it faded beneath the joy of the moment. She held Lady Callista close, as she’d dreamed of doing a thousand times before. Her mother, here, with her. Impossible, yet real and solid.
“I could never hate you, Mother.” Issa’s words came out hoarse and tears brimmed in her eyes. “Never, never!”
For a heartbeat, Lady Callista was too stunned to react. Then her body softened and her arms encircled Issa, clutched her in a fierce embrace. Tears of joy slid down Issa’s face as she clung to her mother.
They remained there for what seemed an eternity, yet they broke off far too soon for Issa. She wanted to stay in the moment forever. To forget everything else and just be here.
But through the blur of tears, she couldn’t help seeing the corpses littering the bloodstained ground. The sight brought Issa back to reality. They had a very real, very serious threat to face. They’d have time to be mother and daughter after Shalandra was saved.
Yet as she pulled back, she felt a bit of the anger returning.
“You’re right,” she said. “I do feel betrayed.”
Pain sparkled in Lady Callista’s expression. “Issa, I—”
“Please, just listen to me.”
Lady Callista closed her mouth, nodded.
“I feel betrayed, but not because you gave me up.” Issa shook her head. “I can understand that. I, too, swore an oath to serve and protect Shalandra, at any cost.” She drew in a breath. “I just…it hurts that you didn’t tell me yourself. That I had to find out from my grandfather rather than from you.”
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