Heir to a Lost Sun: A Caverns of Stelemia Novel

by Riley Morrison

  Minard was in trouble too. A rock must have hit him on the head during the shockwave. The only way they knew he was still alive was because he had moaned when Wrynric had thrown him over his shoulder.

  The old man waited for Kara to stop vomiting, then used his blanket to wipe it from her robe. When he was done, he set aside the blanket and turned to Aemon. “You did well back there, son. I only hope it wasn’t for naught.”

  Aemon said nothing; he was busy agonizing over Kara. A fit of dry retching overcame her. “Kara, I am here for you,” Aemon sobbed. “Please do not die. I need you.”

  The retching stopped and she was left gasping for air. When she recovered, she brought her knees up to her chin and shivered. “Lower your legs, girl,” Wrynric said. “I need to look at your shoulder.” The old man reached for her, but she pulled away. “Come on, please; I need to look at your wound.”

  Kara ignored him.

  Sighing, Wrynric wrapped a clean blanket around her, then kissed her gently on the hair. When he stood, he scrunched up his face and backed away, then rammed his mailed fist into a stalagmite, shattering it to pieces. “This was not meant to happen,” he roared. “It wasn’t meant to end this way. Arden said... He said...” The warrior’s words trailed off into an unintelligible moan.

  Kara stared out into the darkness, panting. She had said nothing since they had pulled her from under the jamalgana, and they had been unable to pry the broken sword hilt from her grip. The passkey hung outside her robe, bathing her face in blood-red light, but it was dimming.

  Aemon wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Will she live?”

  Wrynric looked back at Kara. Perhaps it was a trick of the guttering torchlight, or fatigue, but Wrynric appeared older than Aemon remembered. His beard seemed grayer and his face had deep lines running through it that Aemon did not recall seeing before.

  “I... I don’t know,” Wrynric said, his voice as taut as a bowstring. “She should be dead by now.”

  “Why?”

  It took the old warrior long seconds to answer. “The jamalgana’s bite is deadly. I’ve seen people, including scions, die from the poison within minutes of being bitten. Yet, still she clings onto life.”

  Aemon nodded toward the passkey. “Could it be neutralizing the poison somehow? She did survive the poison from the javelin wound back at the temple.”

  Wrynric ran his mailed hand over the broken stalagmite stump absently. “I have no idea.”

  Kara shivered under her blankets, sweat pouring down her face. Aemon brushed her forehead with the back of his hand. “She is burning up. We need to cool her down.”

  They tried to take the blanket off Kara, but she latched onto it with her teeth and refused to let go. Aemon tried something else. He wet a piece of cloth and wiped it over her face to clean it of sweat, blood and dirt. As he reached into the blanket to clean around her neck, he prayed loud enough for her to hear. “Oh Lydan, Shield of Heaven, protector of the weak and holy, please let her live. She has come so far and needs your help... We all need her. I need her.” I love her.

  For several minutes, Aemon held the damp cloth to Kara’s forehead, listening to the snapping teeth and the crunch of jamalgana bones in the darkness behind them. Eventually he turned to Wrynric, who stood watch over them. “I could have killed the beast myself, you know? I had it under control.”

  The old man furrowed his brow. “I know you did, and I understand why you might feel I stole your glory.”

  “Glory is not what I was after. I just—”

  “Feel like you need to prove yourself to the rest of us?” Aemon tried to deny it, but Wrynric cut him off. “I was young once too, you know. Now look, if I didn’t think you were up to the task of coming out here and protecting Kara, I never would have let you come.”

  Aemon frowned. “You needed allies and I was all there was.”

  “True, but I still wouldn't have brought an untested man out here if I didn’t think they were up to the task of surviving. To do so would endanger us all. You listen, you learn quickly, you’re smart and are driven to improve yourself. Those are rare qualities and few men can claim to possess them all.”

  Thinking over the other man’s words, Aemon decided to forgive Wryrnic for what he had done. The old warrior had only been trying to protect Kara. There was no malice in his action.

  “What is a jamalgana anyway? I have never heard that name before.”

  “They are one of the many monsters born of old-world genetics,” Wrynric replied. “The ancients wove together the blood of many different beasts to form the first jamalgana.” The old man broke off a piece of the shattered stalagmite and rolled it between his fingers. “We were fortunate the one we encountered was young for his kind. The older males can grow near twice as large, and the females can grow even larger.”

  “Do they live around here?”

  “No, I’ve never encountered one this close to Stelemia before. We’re only at the edge of the Nether, so it’s likely he was driven here by his stronger brothers who live deeper in. Maybe he lost a fight during one of their pairing rituals and, facing death if he stayed, decided to head here to live out his days.”

  “What is the chance we will encounter another?”

  Wrynric shrugged. “Hard to say.” He tossed the piece of stalagmite away. “Be wary, son. As dangerous as a jamalgana is, there are worse things out here in the neverending dark.”

  The thought that there could be worse things out here than a jamalgana made Aemon regret he had come. He had read about the mysteries of the Great Dark and always dreamed of going there himself. Now that he was here, he realized how foolish his boyhood fancies had been.

  To think people were exiled into the Great Dark because they said something ill of the divines, or were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had never given exiles much thought, but now he could see why their punishment was one to be truly feared.

  It was one thing to send a vile murderer out here, but a simple peasant who had unknowingly broken some law she had never known or agreed to obey was different. How many thousands of innocents were forced to walk the Path of Exile to end their days in the belly of a jamalgana or some other vicious beast lurking in the dark?

  Too many.

  Kara squirmed as another bout of retching overcame her. He stroked her hair and waited for it to be over.

  There was no time for regret. Not now. Lucitiel, the Igniter of the First Flame that lit Stelemia, never regretted her decision to head out into the Great Dark in search of her lost lover. She endured great hardship and peril out here, but never found him. Old Artorius Forgmon journeyed here too and lived to write of the strange and wondrous things he had discovered. He had no regrets either, for he had made a fortune from his book.

  If they could survive the Great Dark, Aemon could too. He had to go on, no matter what he came up against. He had faced down a jamalgana, faced down the Knives of Dwaycar and faced down his own fear.

  Aemon forged his resolve into metal. No matter what foul beast they encountered, no matter how dark their path became, he would endure it all!

  There was no turning back, even if Kara...

  Aemon tried to swallow the grit stuck to the back of his throat, but failed. Grabbing a water skin, her gargled a mouthful then spat it out. Kara would live. She had to.

  “Tell me, old man. Why would anyone create monsters like the jamalgana? What purpose could it serve?”

  “I think the half-blood...” Wrynric looked down at Kara. “I think Kara had it right. The ancients had the power to create such beasts, so they used it.”

  Power corrupts. Was it really that simple?

  “The bank I worked for was powerful, but it always had a thirst to control everything. This drove the bankers to do evil things, like funding both sides in the conflict at Deep Cave and paying the Inquisitors to condemn debtors who defaulted on their loans to death for heresy.”

  “Power indeed corrupts,” Wrynric said, then closed his eyes and rocked ba
ck and forth on his heels. “I didn’t want to tell anyone this back at the temple, for it would have made things worse. The scions were created from the same genetic tampering as monsters like the jamalgana.”

  Aemon stood to confront him, gritting his teeth against the pain in his legs. “What are you saying? That Kara is a monster too?”

  The old man sighed wearily. “In truth, I don’t know what she is.”

  WRYNRIC HALTED THEM at the edge of a small chamber that stank of smoke. Kara collapsed against the side of the tunnel, lowered her head and seemed to slip off to sleep.

  When Wrynric was certain she was all right, he turned to Aemon. “Inside this chamber there will be a narrow gap between two boulders. The gap looks ordinary, but it’s actually an entrance to a hidden door.”

  “Safehold?” Aemon asked.

  “Yes, Erinie and the other survivors from Sunholm should be inside. They’ll be a little jumpy, so I’ll go in and make sure everything is alright, and tell them we’ve arrived. Give me five minutes, then make your way in.”

  Aemon watched him leave, then studied the other two in the torchlight. It had been a long, hard two days since the jamalgana attack and they were all at the edge of their endurance.

  It had taken hours for Minard to regain consciousness and several more hours for his vertigo to ease enough for him to be able to walk. He had hit his head hard, and the monk had said it was Ibilirith’s divine favor that he had survived at all. Though his head must hurt, Minard never once complained about the pain, so Aemon never mentioned the deep bruising on his legs. He could never allow the other two men to think less of him.

  Kara had not recovered from her ordeal and had barely spoken to any of them. Her bite wound had become inflamed and the night before, Minard and Aemon had needed to hold her down so Wrynric could check over her wounds and clean them out. It had felt like torture listening to her screams as he worked, but Aemon could not think of a way to lessen her pain.

  Worse was Kara’s fever. At times when Aemon touched her forehead, it felt like it was on fire, and at others, it felt as cold as the stone under his feet. Even covered in all their blankets, she still shivered.

  It took a day to pry the broken sword from her hands. After it was gone, she clutched the passkey, and they would have needed to break her fingers to loosen her grip on it.

  Wrynric, though clearly suffering back pain and refusing to sleep, had insisted on carrying Kara, for she slipped in and out on consciousness and could not walk on her own. When he had carried her, Aemon had thought she looked little more than a child in the old man's arms.

  At one point, Kara had woken briefly and told them she had a vision of a steel door and that the Metal Man had spoken to her through it. A moment later, she had slipped back into a restless sleep. The way Minard had watched her sleep made Aemon wonder if the monk was thinking of killing her. Wrynric must have seen the monk's look too, as Aemon noticed the old man's hand resting on his sword hilt. Aemon had kept his his weapon close too, in case the monk tried to hurt her.

  A few hours before they had arrived at Safehold, Kara had woken again and asked to be put down to walk on her own. She had walked slowly, but Wrynric had seemed so happy to see her up and about, he had not complained about the pace.

  Aemon had studied Kara as they walked. Something had changed radically in her since the jamalgana attack, or perhaps it had started earlier and it had taken him this long to see it. It was almost as if she was no longer the same person. She was withdrawn, brooding and seemed to look upon the three of them distrustfully at times. The monk might betray her, but Wrynric and Aemon certainly would not. She knew that.

  Aemon stretched his aching legs. “Wrynric has been gone for almost five minutes. We will give it a bit longer, then head in.”

  Minard gingerly touched his bandaged forehead. “I hope they’ve got some soft pillows in there. My head feels like it’s been rung like the gongs at the temple.”

  When a minute had passed, they entered the chamber and found the gap between the two boulders. Aemon went first, followed by Kara and Minard. After they squeezed through the gap, they found themselves at a black curtain. Aemon pulled it aside, revealing a well-lit room. He glanced at the other two, then entered, squinting in the bright light.

  A dozen desperate-looking people stared at him as he stopped just inside the doorway. Most were dressed in plain cloaks, though a few wore armor and had weapons hanging from their belts.

  Kara stopped beside him and the people’s eyes went to her. They began whispering to one another, their voices too low for Aemon to understand what they were saying. A dark-haired young woman with brown, slanted eyes stood at the center of the group. She had a dozen pouches and a dagger hanging from her waist. When she raised her hand for silence, the people quickly obeyed and watched her walk up to Aemon.

  He did not know how to react when she put her arms around him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She let go and did the same to Minard, then turned to Kara. The two women studied one another, the dark-haired woman with reverence, Kara with a tired, blank expression.

  “My name is Erinie,” the woman said. “Like you, I’m among the last of my kind. I am a Librarian, a keeper of the past.”

  Kara reached into her robe, withdrew the passkey and let the red bulb shine over everyone in the room. For days the bulb had been dim, but now, to Aemon’s amazement, the light was almost as bright as it had been at the Tomb of Ibilirith.

  The people stared at it, their mouths open in awe. One by one, they lowered their faces and fell to their knees.

  “So it is as Arden foresaw,” Erinie said. She went to one knee, took Kara’s hands in hers and kissed them. “You’ve woken the device—something no other scion was able to do.” She raised her face to gaze up at Kara. “Let me help you, Scion. Let me be your guide and I’ll take you to the ancient Dead City so you may follow the path that will lead us back to the blessed light of the Lost Sun.”

  Other than the haunted look in Kara’s eyes, her hollow, sunken cheeks and the blood covering her plain brown robe, she looked regal, like she belonged in heaven among the divines. Kara stood tall, proud and perfect.

  Aemon wanted to fall to his knees with the others and worship her. At that moment, she was their scion, their noble queen, their hope—his love.

  Kara turned her strange eyes on him, as if she sensed his thoughts. Something in them smothered his heart in ice. It was not Kara staring at him—it was a stranger.

  The dazed look had been replaced by one of disdain. No, not disdain. Pure hatred. And no one else seemed to see it.

  Minard was watching the kneeling people, Wrynric was speaking heatedly with a woman at the far end of the room and Erinie and her people had their heads bowed.

  A tremor passed through Kara’s body and she started to fall. Aemon caught her as her knees gave out and held her in his arms.

  Her eyes closed and she slipped away.

  Chapter 21

  KARA

  Wake now. There is much we must do, and time is running out.

  Kara opened her eyes and squinted. A mushroom-stem torch burned on the cave wall above her head, filling the air with the acrid smell of smoke. She was on a bed and had a woolen blanket draped over her.

  “Scion, you’re awake,” a young woman sitting beside the bed said. “How do you feel?”

  Sudden fear made Kara frantically feel for the passkey. Her hand wrapped around it. Thank the divines, it was still there.

  Turning to the woman, Kara worked saliva into her mouth. “I’m in a lot of pain, and—”

  You must leave, the presence inside Kara said. He waits for you.

  But the pain and emptiness was too much to bear. How could she go on? She had barely the energy to lift her head off the pillow, yet the voice urged her on regardless.

  Kara wanted to cry, but no tears would come. “My head. Why does it feel so empty?”

  “You’ve been unconscious, so I’m not surprised you feel out of so
rts,” the woman beside the bed said. “Wrynric told me what happened to you.” She touched the healing poultice wrapped around Kara’s wounded shoulder. “By all rights you should be dead, yet here you lie.”

  Kara tried to recall what had happened. The last thing she remembered was teeth and green blood but after that, only darkness. She studied the woman, who had dark hair and slanted eyes and wore a homespun brown woolen cloak. “Who are you?”

  “You don’t remember?” The woman gave her a faint smile. “My name is Erinie. I’m a Librarian, or I should say I used to be. Since the repository at Sunholm burned, I’m only a healer and alchemist now.”

  Kara looked around the room. It was nothing more than a small natural chamber with a curtain for a door and a rickety metal stand covered in what appeared to be jars of liquids and herbs. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in a place we of the Covenant of the Lost Sun call Safehold. You were brought here two days ago by Wrynric.”

  Fog clouded Kara’s mind and pain assailed her from every side, making it hard to focus. Her vision was blurry, the torch too bright. “Where’s Aemon?”

  “He’s resting, Scion. He’s been by your side since you arrived but I sent him away because he hadn’t slept since he got here.”

  Urgency hit Kara like a cascade of falling rocks, making her catch her breath. We have no time for this, the voice inside raged. Get out of bed and get moving.

  While the presence seemed incapable of hurting Kara, or forcing her to do something she didn’t want to do, it could project its feelings in a way that made her feel them too. The voice was that of a woman—the same one that had guided her to the Metal Man. How could it speak to her now? She wasn’t in a visiondream.

  Kara tried to sit up. “I must leave. The enemy is on the move and they’ll attack another city.”

  Erinie placed a hand on her chest and eased her back onto the bed. “Rest, and regain your strength. You’ll need it in the days ahead.”

  With each passing moment, the urgency and frustration coming from the presence grew hotter. “We must not linger here,” Kara said. “I must go to him.”