Heir to a Lost Sun: A Caverns of Stelemia Novel

by Riley Morrison

  “He’s called the Watcher,” Wrynric said. “He’s been sitting up there so long, no one knows how or when he got there.” The old warrior gestured at a mound of what appeared to be refuse on the ground beneath the skull. “Those are offerings left by members of my covenant who pass this way. The Watcher marks the edge of the Nether, or as you lot call it, the Great Dark.”

  Taking a silver coin from inside a pouch hidden in his armor, Wrynric tossed it among the offerings.

  Kara gasped, “What are you doing?” She’d held silver once in her life—the one he gave her—and here he was dropping another onto the ground as if it were nothing more than a tarnished copper piece.

  “We offer things of value to him, so he watches over us in the dark.”

  “I didn’t think you were superstitious old man,” Minard chuckled. “You upset many of my brethren back at the temple with your skepticism of our order and its ways.”

  Wrynric mouthed a silent prayer to the Watcher, then said, “Many people have lost their lives out here, for danger lurks everywhere. Either you find it or it finds you. For that reason, we take what luck we can.”

  The next climb Wrynric had to make without a rope. When he got to the top he lowered one down so the rest of them could follow. At one point, Minard lost his grip and he and Kara dangled out in space. Kara used what little strength she had left to hold the rope long enough for the monk to regain a firm grip. “Hurry up and grab it,” she screamed. He flailed around, headbutting her in the chin. “Gah, are you trying to get us killed?”

  Finally, Minard managed to wrap his clumsy hands around the rope. “Phew, that was close,” he said, breathing fast. “I owe my Lady Ibilirith my life.”

  Kara narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know my name was Ibilirith.”

  The monk grunted. “I’d probably laugh at that if my arms didn’t feel like they were being torn from their sockets.”

  When they had all gotten to the top, they untied the rope and gathered it up, then made their way to the next rock face. By the fifth climb, Kara began to wonder if they were near reaching Heaven to be with the divines.

  According to Wrynric’s timekeeping device, it was twenty-third hour when they made it to the top of their last climb. The men looked as exhausted as Kara did, Aemon most of all. When they were settled for the night, they ate a cold meal, listening to the distant sounds of battle in silence.

  After dinner, Wrynric doused the torches, plunging them into darkness. “We shall sleep with no light to draw less attention to ourselves and to conserve the torches. Now rest, all of you. I’ll stand guard.”

  Kara got as comfortable as she could on the hard, icy, uneven rock. The last thing she heard before sleep took her was Minard offering to take the second watch.

  KARA’S WORLD WAS AN incandescent white haze, allowing her to see without a torch. She ran through a twisting labyrinth of caves, then waded through an icy river, following the directions of the voice in her head. After what seemed like hours, she entered an ancient, abandoned city, its walls cracked and gray.

  In her heart, she knew it to be Annbar.

  The voice guided her through endless silent halls and dark, empty corridors. At the edge of a large antechamber, an imposing steel door barred her way. Kara instinctively used the passkey on a console beside it and the door began to rise.

  A foul odor engulfed her, almost making her gag. The air, undisturbed for millennia, was poison.

  Walk on and fear not the air you breathe. You are safe here, deep underground while you dream. The voice was that of a woman but she sounded different than the one in the visiondreams of the surface.

  This woman felt like part of Kara.

  “Who are you?”

  I am you and you are me. We are one and the same.

  Why did the women speaking to Kara in her visiondreams always have to be so vague with their answers?

  “Where are we going?”

  To meet an old friend.

  Kara waited as another metal door rose from the floor. “Who’s down here? Who can breathe this poison air?”

  Not who. What.

  “What do you mean?”

  You will see. A great war is coming and the power to end it lies within this ruin. I must— The voice stopped mid-sentence and let out a panicked cry. Danger. You must wake!

  KARA OPENED HER EYES to a world of darkness. They quickly adjusted and she saw Minard sitting two feet in front of her, keeping watch. The monk stared straight at Kara but couldn’t see her, for with no light, he was blind. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart raced.

  Something was coming, and it was close.

  She sat up and used her dark-vision to scan the area. “Are you awake?” Minard whispered.

  “Shush,” she replied. “We’re in danger.”

  He grabbed his staff and got to his feet. When he kicked Wrynric, the old warrior came to swiftly and made almost no sound as he drew his sword. He had been woken like this before and knew what to do. Whatever was out there would not get him without a fight.

  Kara put a hand over Aemon’s mouth before she woke him. “Stay silent, there’s something out there.”

  Aemon grabbed his mace and got to his feet, eyes heavy with fatigue.

  They listened for a long time but heard only the distant clamor from Celestial Rest, which had become noticeably more sporadic. Kara continued to search for what had woken her, but nothing appeared out of place. Had the voice in the visiondream been wrong?

  Then it occurred to her to look up.

  A set of dinner-plate sized eyes peered down at her from a ledge thirty feet above their heads. The eyes narrowed to slits. Whatever it was, it knew she’d seen it.

  The creature slid off its perch and used sickle-like claws to scale down the rock. It was twenty feet above them when Kara found her voice. “We need light, it’s above us.”

  Sparks flashed as Wrynric struck flint to tinder and the saucer eyes closed. Wrynric struck the tinder again and the torch burst to light. The thing mewed and spat, then leapt off the wall at Kara.

  She screamed and fell onto her back and watched it plummet toward her. At the last moment, Minard rammed his shoulder into it and the creature landed face first into the rock two feet from her.

  It got to its feet instantly then swung its reptilian head to face Kara, spraying green ichor over her face, its yellow, saliva-drenched fangs bared. When Wrynric and Minard charged it, it hissed and leapt deftly out of their reach. Like a slinking cat, it circled around the two men looking for an opening, its eyes never leaving hers.

  Could it sense something different about Kara or could it smell the wound on her chest? Either way, the thought was chilling.

  The beast was twenty feet long, with a long, whip-like tail and sharp spines running along its back. It stood no taller than her waist, but its legs were corded with muscle, its hide pitted with scars.

  Perhaps this was one of the monsters born of the old world, as the ancients had tried to shape life in their own image.

  Wrynric charged it again. “Protect the half-blood. This monster is a jamalgana, and its venom is deadly.”

  Aemon moved to stand between Kara and the beast. Still, its saucer eyes were on her. Minard and Wrynric ran headlong toward the jamalgana, but it backed away, careful to stay a foot beyond the edge of the torchlight. It ducked behind a fallen boulder and went out of view.

  Minard scanned the gloom. “Where’d it go?”

  Kara climbed to her feet and drew her sword. “It’s behind the boulder about twenty feet in front of you.”

  Aemon clumsily lit another torch, his hands shaking with fear. Wrynric ran toward the jamalgana but it slinked away and circled around him.

  Kara raised her sword. “It’s to your left. Hurry and kill it; it’s trying to get me.”

  Wrynric charged blindly toward it but the jamalgana was too cunning to be caught off guard and leapt away before he could reach it. Minard gave up the chase, hurried over to Kara, and pr
otected her with his staff.

  The jamalgana reared back on its hind legs and cocked its head to the side, as if listening. Wrynric was almost on it when it got back onto all fours and scuttled away. Kara couldn’t see it any longer. She looked everywhere, but it was gone.

  Suddenly, the ground shook violently and they were knocked off guard. Wrynric shouted something as he fought to keep his balance, but his words were lost as a deafening roar swept over them. Wind raced through the crevice below them like through a pressure tube and struck them full-force. All four were knocked off their feet, their torches extinguished.

  Particles of dust, dirt, and stone pummeled Kara and made it hard to breathe or see. When the shockwave passed, she lay stunned for several minutes.

  Then she heard something.

  Dazed, Kara sat up and opened her eyes but could see little through the murk. Her heart slipped a beat as she heard claws scampering across the rock.

  The jamalgana leapt from the dust cloud and sunk its fangs into her left arm. She screamed in agony and terror as the ancient horror dragged her away in its jaws, its deadly poison entering her bloodstream.

  Chapter 20

  AEMON

  Aemon coughed and sneezed at the same time. His nostrils and mouth were filled with particles of grit thrown up from the shockwave. The grit got into his eyes, making them burn, so he snapped them shut.

  The cave shook again, though the tremor was not as powerful as the last. Somewhere out in the darkness a boulder shattered as it hit the ground, showering him with fragments of stone.

  Was the whole cave going to collapse? What could have caused this?

  His heart fluttered. Celestial Rest. The enemies must have brought down one of the giant mushrooms. If the shockwave had struck him and his companions with such force this far from the city, who knew how much damage it could have caused back in Stelemia.

  If the shockwave destroyed the Flowstone Gates, the main cavern would be opened to the enemy and nothing could stop them from invading the heart of Stelemia.

  Panic struck him like a kick in the gut. Where was Kara?

  Aemon sat up and tried to call out to her but nothing came out except a choked garble. Spitting, he worked saliva into his mouth and tried again. “Ka... Ahem... Kara? Where are you?” His voice was hoarse and each time he breathed more grit entered his mouth. “Wrynric, Minard, where is she?”

  Now that he thought back on it, something had brushed past him during the worst of the shockwave and a moment later, he thought he had heard Kara scream. It was difficult to be sure what had happened. The torch had gone out and he had covered his face with his hands to protect it from the pelting grit shooting up through the crevice.

  He listened. What was that sound? There it is again. The jamalgana was out there somewhere; but where?

  Fear finally made him open his eyes. Grit swirled through the air, almost blinding him, but Aemon ignored the pain and forced himself to peer into the darkness.

  Lydan, help him. It was no good; he could not see anything. The jamalgana roared somewhere in the distance. It sounded like it was fighting... His stomach lurched. Or feeding.

  Aemon staggered to his feet as he heard a scream.

  He felt around for a light, then his fingers touched something hot and he cried out. The smoldering tip of a torch. Lucky he had not landed on top of it and burned himself. He searched his bag, found the spare flint and tinder and used it to re-light the torch.

  A murky world of gray, brown and black greeted him. With visibility reduced to no more than ten feet, it made it hard for him to get his bearings. The grit slowly settling to the ground and made his torch splutter and spark.

  Kara let out a long wail of agony that seemed to go on forever.

  Aemon narrowed down the direction of the sound and started toward it. He had only taken a few steps when he stumbled over Minard. The monk lay sprawled on his stomach, covered in silt, blood oozing from a gash on his forehead.

  Was he dead?

  An enraged hiss from the jamalgana made Aemon forgo checking if the monk had a pulse and continue into the murk, torch in one hand, mace in the other, blood pounding in his forehead. Both Wrynric and Minard were dead for all he knew, so it was up to him to save Kara.

  Filled with adrenaline, he cried, “Where are you, Kara? Keep making noise so I can find you.”

  A snarl from the jamalgana was his only answer.

  Aemon tried not to think about stumbling off a cliff in the low visibility, and ran. The torchlight revealed what could be a blood trail, but it was difficult to be certain, as dust had already settled over it. He followed the trail up a steep, water-slick incline. “Hold on Kara, I am coming.”

  Halfway up, his feet came out from under him and he fell onto his backside, jolting his spine. Winded, he tried to get back to his feet but slipped and landed on his knees. Curse it all. I cannot get up; the ground is too slippery!

  Aemon attached his mace back to his belt. Then, holding the torch in one hand, he used the other to dig his fingers into the uneven surface of the rock and drag himself up the slope. His arm muscles burned with fatigue, but he pressed on.

  Nothing would stop him from saving Kara.

  A scraping sound, like claw on rock, came from somewhere above him. The jamalgana was close.

  Finally, Aemon reached the top of the incline, got to his feet and drew his mace. Walking forward, his heart almost stopped when he saw the jamalgana thrashing around on top of Kara, who sat on the ground with her back pressed against the cave wall.

  Kara’s sword was wedged between the beast’s jaws, the tip protruding from the back of its neck. The jamalgana’s poison-drenched fangs were close to burying themselves into her head. Her face covered in green ichor, her teeth bared, Kara desperately held it back.

  All the fear Aemon carried with him dissolved. He charged the jamalgana and smashed the mace down onto its back. The weapon bounced off its scaly hide, but the beast jerked and growled deep in its throat. Striking it again and again, Aemon began to lose hope, for his blows were not driving it away from Kara. He searched for a weak spot, but the creature’s tough hide was armored with thick scales the size of a human hand.

  If only he had a sword or spear, he could plunge the sharp—

  Suddenly, the jamalgana whipped its tail across Aemon’s legs and knocked them out from under him. Crying out in pain and surprise, he cowered on the ground as the tail swiped at him again. This time it missed, giving him time to crawl out of its reach.

  By Lydan, his legs hurt. What if one of them was broken?

  Rolling onto his side, he looked back at the jamalgana. No... His torch had fallen to the ground and rolled under the creature’s belly.

  Aemon squinted, doing his best to ignore the irritation from the grit blowing into his eyes. How was he going to retrieve the torch? What if it went out?

  The creature hissed in pain. The torch flame was scorching its armored hide, and the beast could not move away from it without breaking Kara’s grip on the sword or dragging her away with it.

  Excitement flooded through him. Fire. I can use fire to drive the beast away.

  Aemon lunged for the torch. The tail swiped at him just as he landed on the ground, but it only grazed the back of his legs. He snatched up the light and crawled to the creature’s head.

  The jamalgana’s eye reflected the flame as he drove the torch into it. “Get off her, you vile monster!”

  A rank stench of scorched flesh filled the air as the jamalgana hissed in agony. It writhed as it tried to dislodge itself from Kara’s sword. The creature’s snout came uncomfortably close to her face and seemed to be getting closer with every twist of its head. With barely a thought to what he was doing, Aemon waited for the right moment, then rammed the torch down its throat.

  The jamalgana went wild.

  Smoke billowing from its mouth, the beast snapped its jaws shut, breaking Kara’s sword and almost biting off Aemon’s hands, coming within inches of Kara’s f
ace. As the ledge plunged into darkness, Aemon backed away a few feet and drove the mace into where he had last seen its jaw.

  He delighted in the satisfying crunch of teeth and bone and the feel of warm liquid gushing over his arms. “Take that, you wretched thing!”

  Kara screamed hysterically, snuffing out his moment of exaltation. Aemon could not see what was happening to her. Maybe he should not have sacrificed the torch. His heart pounded, hands gripping the mace tight. Was it killing her?

  Light appeared behind him as Wrynric staggered to the top of the rise. Aemon used the newfound light to drive the mace into the creature’s scorched eye. The milk-white membrane ruptured, sending gobs of jelly-like mucus spraying over him.

  “Move out of the way,” Wrynric roared as he rushed up to them.

  “I can kill it myse—”

  He shoved Aemon aside, then drove his sword through the ruptured eye, burying it into the jamalgana’s brain. The beast stiffened for a moment and then, with a ragged gasp, it went still.

  AFTER SEVERAL MINUTES to catch their breath, Wrynric picked up Kara. Aemon limped after him as the old man made his way back to camp. When they arrived, they gathered their equipment quickly, the old man passing Kara to Aemon. Minard was dead or unconscious, so Wrynric threw him over his shoulder and had Aemon help him carry as much of the equipment as he could.

  When they were well away from the dead jamalgana and the small, vicious, rat-like scavengers converging on it to feed, they stopped to gather themselves. Kara, now wrapped in a blanket, was too distraught to speak. Minard lay unmoving beside her, half-buried in silt.

  Kara vomited all over herself. Grimacing, Aemon knelt beside her, his legs savagely bruised from where the tail had struck him. My wound is as light as a page of parchment. Kara’s wounds are a weighty tome that threatens to crush us all.

  She had been in a bad way before, but looked worse now. Kara was covered head to toe in dust, green ichor and vomit, making it hard for him or Wrynric to discern the extent of her injuries.