Destroyer of Worlds Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  DESTROYER

  OF

  WORLDS

  LARRY

  CORREIA

  BAEN

  DESTROYER OF WORLDS

  LARRY CORREIA

  IF IT'S WAR YOU WANT . . . The best of military epic fantasy as the bestselling Saga of the Forgotten Warrior series continues.

  The Great Extermination has begun.

  In the Capitol, Grand Inquisitor Omand Vokkan hatches a plot to kill every member of the untouchable caste in all of Lok, down to the last man, woman, and child. As a member of the Order of Inquisition, Vokkan has no official say in the creation of Law, but he has powerful allies willing to do his bidding. Through them, he has convinced the Judges that the genocide will be swift, complete, and without complication. Nothing is farther from the truth.

  Lord Protector Devedas has sworn to uphold the Law. Once, he and the traitor Ashok Vadal had been like brothers. Now, he hunts Vadal and the Sons of the Black Sword, heretics and rebels who seek to live outside the rule of the Law. All Devedas must do is find and kill his best friend and order will be restored to Lok.

  The rebels seek the secret kingdom spoken of by the Prophet Thera, a paradise where water is pure and food plentiful, where there are no castes, where the people rule themselves, and are not slaves to the Capitol. Ashok Vadal is not sure he believes in such a Paradise, but he—along with his allies—does seek refuge in the rebellion’s hideout in Akershan. But Vadal, a former High Protector who has turned his back on the corrupt Law, will not merely wait meekly, hoping that fleeing to Akershan will spare the rebellion from the clutches of the Great Extermination. No, if it’s a war the Capitol wants, Vadal, who has faced down gods and demons, will be all too willing to give it to them.

  BAEN BOOKS by LARRY CORREIA

  SAGA OF THE FORGOTTEN WARRIOR

  Son of the Black Sword

  House of Assassins

  Destroyer of Worlds

  THE GRIMNOIR CHRONICLES

  Hard Magic

  Spellbound

  Warbound

  MONSTER HUNTER INTERNATIONAL

  Monster Hunter International

  Monster Hunter Vendetta

  Monster Hunter Alpha

  Monster Hunter Legion

  Monster Hunter Nemesis

  Monster Hunter Siege

  Monster Hunter Memoirs: Grunge (with John Ringo)

  Monster Hunter Memoirs: Sinners (with John Ringo)

  Monster Hunter Memoirs: Saints (with John Ringo)

  Monster Hunter Guardian (with Sarah A. Hoyt)

  DEAD SIX (with Mike Kupari)

  Dead Six

  Swords of Exodus

  Alliance of Shadows

  Invisible Wars: The Collected Dead Six (forthcoming omnibus edition)

  STORY COLLECTIONS

  Target Rich Environment

  Target Rich Environment Volume 2

  Destroyer of Worlds

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Larry Correia

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  A Baen Books Original

  Baen Publishing Enterprises

  P.O. Box 1403

  Riverdale, NY 10471

  www.baen.com

  ISBN: 978-1-9821-2484-7

  eISBN: 978-1-62579-776-6

  Cover art by Kurt Miller

  Map by Isaac Stewart

  First printing, September 2020

  Distributed by Simon & Schuster

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Correia, Larry, author.

  Title: Destroyer of worlds / Larry Correia.

  Description: Riverdale, NY : Baen, [2020] | Series: Saga of the forgotten

  warrior ; 3

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020023463 | ISBN 9781982124847 (hardcover)

  Subjects: GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3603.O7723 D47 2020 | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020023463

  Pages by Joy Freeman (www.pagesbyjoy.com)

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Electronic Version by Baen Books

  www.baen.com

  To Rabbit

  Chapter 1

  Nineteen years ago

  One was sixteen years old. The other only twelve. They were best friends, brothers, but not by blood. In a moment, they would duel. More than likely, one of them would die.

  “I beg you, Devedas, do not go through with this.”

  “Can’t you see? I’ve got no choice, Ashok!” the older of them shouted. “I have to try.”

  Bound by Law and tradition, Ashok couldn’t walk away either. As the chosen bearer of mighty Angruvadal, he was obligated to accept all challengers, just in case the powerful ancestor blade might find someone more worthy to wield it.

  How could Angruvadal not choose Devedas over him? Devedas was the best of them, stronger, smarter, and more dedicated than any of the other acolytes. He had climbed to the top of the Protector’s brutal program. Officially, all were equal in status, but Devedas was the son of a Thakoor and had been raised expecting to someday rule a great house. He was superior to Ashok in every way but one.

  Ashok had Angruvadal.

  The mighty black steel blade of Great House Vadal had been kept from him the entire time he had been in training. The master would allow Ashok no magical edge over the other boys, so Angruvadal had been taken away. A normal man could not understand what it was like to be a bearer. It wasn’t just his sword that had been lost, but it was as if part of himself had been locked away in that cold vault. For two long years he had suffered, incomplete.

  Except now their trial was passed. They had crossed glaciers and fought ancient automatons. All the others had turned back as failures. Three had pressed on. Yugantar had given into fear and fled. He was certainly dead now, his body frozen up there forever. Only Ashok and Devedas had fought on. They had reached the highest peak and touched the Heart of the Mountain. Ashok was the youngest to ever do so in the entire history of the Order. They were no longer acolytes, but full members of the Protector Order, with all its accompanying status, privilege, and responsibil
ities.

  It was one of the greatest achievements a Law-abiding man could ever hope for, yet the joy he had felt at attaining senior rank was nothing compared to getting his sword back. The normally dour masters had allowed their trainees to freely celebrate the advancement of two of their own, or to mourn the one they’d lost. All the acolytes, even the failures, were allowed all the meat and wine they desired. A rare treat indeed.

  Except their celebration had quickly turned ugly.

  It was plain that bitterness had consumed Devedas when he had seen the legendary Angruvadal riding upon its bearer’s hip. He’d claimed it was unfair that Ashok should have such an honor, and not him. When the ancestor blade of Great House Dev had shattered in his father’s hands, it had taken with it his inheritance and all his family’s dignity. Ashok had tried to deflect, to once again say that it was not his choice to make, but the sword’s. Only Devedas had grown increasingly jealous as the night went on. Though they’d trained together, fought together, undertaken the trial together, and nearly died upon the mountain together, none of that mattered in the moment, because Devedas’ one weakness was his pride.

  Accusations had been made. Youthful foolishness had led to anger. Ashok had tried to turn aside his brother’s wrath. They were both tired. It had been a long journey down the mountain. Only Devedas had not relented. He had goaded Ashok to this point. Words had been spoken which could not be retracted.

  “You are the closest friend I’ve ever had,” Ashok told him truthfully. “Please do not make me kill you.”

  As the son of a bearer, Devedas understood the rules. A duel to see if a challenger was worthy to claim an ancestor blade did not need to be to the death, but it often was, because by their very nature black steel blades were very unforgiving.

  “Better to try and fail than be a coward and never know.”

  The two stood in the middle of the practice field, dusted white with snow, surrounded by a circle of nervous Protectors, young and old, from the most recently obligated acolyte, to twenty-year senior, Mindarin, who had been one of their instructors.

  That most experienced Protector was furious. “You should stop this foolishness at once. The Order is too small in number as it is. You’re both valuable assets, better spent in defense of the Law. However a duel ends, the Order will be weaker for it.”

  “Do you order me to stand down?” Devedas asked.

  Mindarin shook his head. “You know I cannot. Your actions, though wasteful and stupid, are entirely legal. The bearer cannot deny you, and the challenger cannot be denied.”

  “Forgive me, honored teacher, for you know what I must do.” It obviously pained Devedas to disappoint Mindarin, because he had been the acolytes’ kindest instructor, teaching by word and example. Which was much preferred by all of them to Master Ratul’s methods, which consisted of beatings and hunger.

  A man of reason rather than passion, Mindarin did not give up so easily. “Listen to me, Devedas. Your father is dead. Your house has fallen. Claiming a new sword will not bring either back. Let them go. Your life has been obligated to the Order. This is your family now.” He gestured at the acolytes who were anxiously watching to see which of their friends would die.

  “You know I love them and the Order both.”

  “Yet you cannot be fully committed until you put the Order first. Great House Dev is no more. You were my best student, yet the one lesson I could never get to stick with you is that you cannot reclaim old glories. Sometimes the past is best forgotten.”

  Ashok found that to be a curious sentiment, coming from the Protector who had been responsible for teaching them about history. The approved parts of history at least.

  “I respect your wisdom, Mindarin, but I can’t accept it. I was raised to be the Thakoor of a great house, with a black steel blade as my birthright.”

  “What’s done is done, young Devedas.”

  Devedas met Ashok’s gaze and gave him a sad smile. “I have to try.”

  “So be it then. I wash my hands of this. Angruvadal will decide which of you to deprive the Order of…Karno, summon the master,” Mindarin snapped at one of the youngest acolytes, who immediately ran off to warn Ratul that his two newest senior ranks were about to kill each other.

  The two of them squared off, ten paces between them. The circle of Protectors backed up to give them space, for even the ones who had not seen an ancestor blade in action knew of their deadly reputation. It was not unheard of for one of the angry things to remove the limb from a curious bystander.

  Ashok found it very lonely inside the circle.

  The crowd did not cheer for either of them. There were no favorites here. A natural leader, who honestly cared for the well-being of the other acolytes, Devedas was beloved by all. Ashok had been seen as a young upstart at first, because he had arrived already gifted with one of the most powerful artifacts in the world. Except he had gone on to win their respect by being the most dedicated among them.

  He tried one last time to get his brother to see reason. “The Law requires me to do my best. I will hold nothing back.”

  It was a grave warning, for though they had sparred against each other hundreds of times now, and Devedas—being bigger, stronger, and faster—almost always won, those victories were against Ashok alone. When you fought a bearer, you fought against the combined instinct of every man who had ever carried that sword into battle. A part of each of its prior bearers lived on in the black steel, as would a fragment of Ashok, as long as Angruvadal survived. It was one of the only forms of immortality in a world where the Law declared there was no existence beyond this life.

  “Everyone knows you always do precisely what the Law says, little brother.” Devedas gave him a sad smile. “It’s why it’s impossible to hate you.”

  Ashok could not feel fear like everyone else, but he could understand it well enough in principle. He could see that Devedas was afraid—as any sane man would be to face an ancestor blade—yet he was committed.

  “Know that if it was my decision, I would do my best to defeat you, but I would try to spare your life. Only I do not think Angruvadal understands moderation.”

  Devedas simply nodded. It was good that he was willing to accept death. Ashok suspected that such acceptance was necessary in order to win Angruvadal’s approval. Ashok did not want to die, but if he did, at least this way Angruvadal would have a worthy new bearer.

  “Offense has been taken!” Devedas shouted so that all could hear the official challenge.

  “Offense has been given.” Ashok did not think it had, but tradition demanded he accept.

  The duel began, not in a sudden burst of movement, but in absolute stillness.

  The opponents watched each other, waiting.

  Then Devedas shifted his weight, ever so slightly, boots crunching into the snow and gravel beneath. His strong hand moved slowly, until it was poised just over the hilt of his sword.

  Ashok’s hand hovered over Angruvadal. It had been two years since he had drawn the sword, but ancestor blades never lost their edge. Black steel did not rust. It was alive. And hungry. He could feel the hum of angry energy prickling through his palm. The sword wanted to know who needed to be killed.

  Please have mercy on him, Angruvadal. I think this one will accomplish great things for the Law. Ashok tried his best to make his will known to his sword, but it remained a mystery if Angruvadal understood, or cared. And he is my friend.

  There was some movement at the edge of the circle. As if from a great distance he heard someone say that Master Ratul had arrived, but Ashok’s focus was entirely upon the duel.

  It was cold. Thick blood made for slow hands.

  The wind blew. A little eddy of snow swirled between them.

  Devedas’ finger twitched.

  Soon.

  Another involuntary twitch.

  Forty generations of bearers were with Ashok. They knew exactly what would happen, they’d seen the gathering of strength, the tensing of muscle, and the su
dden explosive movement thousands of times, and all of that instinct was there for the taking. It was as if there were ghosts in the black steel, always whispering.

  Though legally his to use, such an advantage seemed dishonorable. If his brother was willing to die in order to test his commitment, then so was Ashok.

  No, Angruvadal. I will do this myself.

  The whispers stopped. There was only the wind and the wait.

  Ashok thought of nothing. There would be only action and reaction.

  Devedas moved.

  Eye-searing Angruvadal was in Ashok’s hand, so fast it was like he’d willed the black steel into being.

  They struck at the same time.

  They had the same sword master, which was more important than them having different fathers. There were names for the stances and techniques they used, but in the instant, they simply were. It was the purest moment of Ashok’s life.

  There was a flash of black as the two opponents crossed.

  Anyone else in the world, and Devedas surely would have been the victor. Except Angruvadal would not be choosing a new bearer tonight.

  Ashok swept past Devedas, sword still rising past the cut. He saw the look on his other brothers’ faces, awestruck, for they’d never seen any living thing move that fast. Protector Mindarin gaped in surprise, but Master Ratul just watched him, bemused, something calculating and cruel in his dark eyes.

  As Devedas fell, the normal world came rushing back.

  His opponent was down.

  Ashok realized the others wanted to rush and help their fallen, but they didn’t dare step into the circle as long as fearsome Angruvadal was free. Offense had been claimed. Ashok was within his legal rights to finish his challenger. But the Law was wise. Allowed was not mandatory. He looked at Angruvadal. It was somehow clean of blood, as if Angruvadal was too proud to be stained. He thanked his sword, then sheathed it, declaring the conflict over.