The Lost Sun Series Box Set 1: Books 1 and 2 (Lost Sun Box Set)

by Riley Morrison

  Take that crazy ex first flat mate!

  Riley’s website: rileymorrisonauthor.com

  Riley’s Face Book Page: @rileymorrisonauthor

  Riley on Twitter: @RileyMauthor

  Riley on You Tube: CLICK HERE

  Author Note

  First, I want to say, THANK YOU so much for reading Heir to a Lost Sun. I honestly hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. And thank you for reading these notes too!

  I have always loved fantasy, and grew up reading and playing fantasy stories. My favorite books are the Lone Wolf Books by the late Joe Dever (kudos to those of you who have read them) and they certainly influenced my writing and love of fantasy, as I grew older. Here is a link to a blog post I did on these books and how you can read them for free: CLICK HERE

  As to the Lost Sun series, I was finally inspired to write something like these books after playing Arx Fatalus a few years ago. This game is a largely obscure classic by the same company who would later go on to make Dishonored and Prey. I loved the atmosphere of the game, the oppressive world, the feeling that no matter what you do, it will all be meaningless in the end, as the world is dying, and with it, every living thing. You should totally play that game if you haven’t!

  But, I’ve always loved caves and caving and the idea of exploring every passage and chamber of them. I spent too many hours doing this in games like Minecraft. Also, when I have been down caves, I love thinking of the movie the Descent, just to freak myself out.

  Speaking of that movie, it was another thing that inspired me to write this book. As was City of Ember and a book I read as a young teen about a boy who became trapped in a video game world. That book was almost LitRPG before that was even a thing! Also, I love the whole mash up of advanced technology and more outdated tech like swords, spears and maces.

  Another inspiration for me to write this was the Dark Souls series of games. And if you can pick the tiny references to those games in this book, then email me and tell me!

  When I started thinking of this book, Kara and Aemon were both the first things I thought of other than a vague idea of medieval kingdoms underground. The book changed a lot from how I originally envisioned it, but these two characters stayed the same. It is their world, their story and they totally guided me through it. Aemon showed me the sites and told me the history of them, while Kara constantly reminded me that there were more pressing things to be doing and that we needed to keep moving.

  Overall, as I wrote this book, I felt like I was climbing Mount Everest. It was nearly two years worth of work. The first draft was complete in January 2016 and I thought I’d have it out by about June that year. Boy, was I wrong. Not that that’s something unusual or anything!

  Working with my editor Allison E Wright has taught me a HUGE amount about writing. And I thank her for her much valued advice and feedback. With her mentoring, I feel I have come a long way as a writer and have been able to put out the best book I possibly could.

  I think the world and characters truly came alive after she came into the picture.

  On this note, I also like to thank a local Perth writer and publisher named Rebecca Laffar Smith, who has taught me a lot about various aspects of self publishing over the last few years. I’d also like to thank her for all the work she puts into organizing and planning local writing events. She is much valued to the Perth writing community!

  And I’d like to thank my cover artist, who did a wonderful job in creating the covers for a book that steps foot in so many different genres. Each cover, in my mind, is a work of art unto itself.

  Please, if you enjoyed this book, give it a rating on Amazon. Whatever you think it is worth.

  Your kind words and encouragements are worth the world to authors, including me. I will continue writing the series no matter if you provide an outstanding review or not, but I am sure with kind words and encouragement, the series will be finished sooner rather than later!

  SPECIAL OFFER

  This offer is aimed at people who loved Heir to a Lost Sun and would like to help in the development of this series.

  I am looking for beta readers for book 3 and later book 4. Once book 2 is out, and you have read it (so you’re up to date with what is happening), would you be interested in beta reading the third book? Basically, a beta reader reads an unfinished copy of the book and tells the author what they like or don’t like about it, what parts are slow, this part doesn’t make sense etc. I will provide you with some questions to keep in mind while reading the book to make this easier.

  Book 2 will come out roughly a month after book 1, and I hope book 3 will come out a few months after that (Around feb-March 2018)

  IN RETURN for being a beta reader, I will give you the book for free when it comes out and a personal thank you!

  Also, I will include your name in the credits of book 3 if you would like it included.

  Now for the good part. For beta readers who provide me detailed feedback or help me most of all, I would love to include your name (or another name if you prefer) into book 3 in some way. Most likely, this inclusion will be your violent, bloody death at the hands of some hideous monster or the ancient enemy. There are named characters that die, which are only placeholder names. They could easily be replaced with yours, if you help me!

  If I get too many beta readers all providing detailed feedback, then I will try to reward you in some other way. I can’t name fifty minor characters who die in the book, after all. Maybe there could be a list of casualties at the end and how they died with your name included.

  Eg: John: Death by beheading and impalement on a stalagmite. Beth: Death by disembowelment.

  Also, I’d love to have a section of my website where the deaths of beta readers are displayed. A sort of digital cemetery, as it were.

  If you’re interested in this, please email me at: mail@rileymorrisonauthor.com

  Thanks for reading!

  DAWN OF A LOST SUN

  DAWN OF A LOST SUN

  By Riley Morrison

  © 2017 Riley Morrison All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Moonchildljilja at fantasybookdesign.com

  Edited By: Allison E Wright at wrightediting.com

  ISBN-13: 978-1976493447

  ISBN-10: 1976493447

  I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review or telling your friends about it, to help me spread the word. Thank you for supporting my work.

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  OTHER BOOKS BY RILEY

  THE CAVERNS OF STELEMIA

  Fall of a Lost Sun (The standalone prequel)

  Heir to a Lost Sun

  Dawn of a Lost Sun

  THE CAVERNS OF STELEMIA SIDE ADVENTURES

  Ruins of a Lost Sun

  PROLOGUE

  RUBIN

  Rubin threw the intelligence report from Celestial Rest into the fireplace and watched it burn. It had been grim reading. The report detailed the enemy, the death of Lord Laython, the destruction of the city—and with it, the bank's warehouse full of expensive herbs.

  The pain in Rubin's belly made him grit his teeth and gulp down a mouthful of shroom tea. Herbs were not all the bank had lost. Not by a long shot. They had also been robbed of a vault filled with gold, silver, precious platinum and vital records.

  So much loss. With no one left alive to pin the blame on.

  Curse Lord Laython, the fool. Trouncing around like a pompous dandy into battle against an enemy he knew nothing about. Instead of throwing the lives of his soldiers away, he should have had them emptying Celestial Rest of valuable trade goods and th
e bank's treasury. If he had, the economic shock to the Stelemian economy would not have been as dire after the city fell.

  Rubin's stomach gurgled and a dull ache ran up his back. "Damn this indigestion," he muttered, turning back to his desk and taking the next piece of parchment from the pile. His pain always seemed to get worse when he had to wade through bad news. I should throw the lot of it in the fire and be done with it.

  He wearily scanned the page. After a few sentences, he stopped reading and sighed. The enemy had been sighted amassing before Flowstone Gates. Rubin glared at the parchment, as if it were to blame. For the last week, he had read an endless torrent of dire reports, each new message piling bad news on the already overflowing pile. And I am expected to fix it all!

  He could not rely on the other members of the Banking Council to save the institution's financial interests from the ravages of the war. Oh no, not a single one of them. He tossed the parchment into the fire. Short-sighted, simple, cantankerous old fools, the lot of them. I have to do everything!

  As he began to read the next report, he slowly sipped his steaming shroom tea. The sweetened drink was the only pleasure he got out of life these days. Even the plotting he had once reveled in meant little now. Damn you, Aemon. Why did you do this to me? I put so much trust in you.

  This report had come from Breccia Bonefields, written by an asset who worked in the local militia. After reading only a few lines, Rubin discarded the letter into the flames. Lord Yafa, the fat brainless oaf, had been put in command at Jalarfed.

  Can no one send me good news? Rubin put the empty tea cup down. Too many of his colleagues—including some on the Banking Council—believed the destruction of Deep Cave and Celestial Rest signaled Stelemia's days were numbered. Rubin, however, was ever the optimist. Or at least he used to be.

  In the old days, he would not only have found a way to save Stelemia, he would also have discovered a way to profit from it. So what if a few peasants died along the way, and so what if inbred oafs like Yafa were put in positions of power they were in no way suited for? Times of calamity and change always benefited those who were prepared and ready to seize power when the time came. And Rubin was prepared. His agents were still in place, waiting only for his word to initiate the hostile takeover.

  But everything had changed, and Rubin no longer had the energy, the vigor or even the desire for power. It had driven him once, filled his thoughts, shaped his actions. Now power felt as worthless as the lives around him. You did this to me, Aemon. I trusted you. You should have just died out there and spared me the pain.

  Rubin cursed loudly and stood. His bowels suddenly felt like they were going to void themselves all over his seat.

  It had not been so long ago—no more than a few months—he had not had problems with his wretched guts. But since that young upstart had run off and left the bank's gold for the peasantry of Deep Cave to steal, then gotten himself involved with some disgusting tavern wench, Rubin had found himself deteriorating quickly. I trusted you. I trusted you.

  As he moved toward the latrine, he reached into his pocket and felt for the letter he had kept there for the last month. He had read it over and over and had to stop himself from doing so again.

  You sniveling, young fool. How dare you fail me. I saw so much promise in you. Rubin's legs began to shake and he had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. I was grooming you to be my successor, and you threw it all away for a filthy whore!

  The intense rage made Rubin lightheaded, his heart thumping in his ears. He lurched forward, almost blacking out, but caught himself at the last moment, saving himself from a headlong plunge into the latrine. Taking a deep breath, he waited until the headspins passed and his pulse slowed. He had let his guard down with Aemon. He should have known better. Especially in my line of work, it never pays to get sentimental. What a blind fool I was.

  Never had Rubin cared for any of the clerks, nor anyone else in the bank. But Aemon had so much potential. He had grasped the fundamentals of banking, of economics, of multiplication like no other. Once Rubin had weeded out the young man's insufferable desires to do what was right—at the cost of profit and leverage—he would have made a valuable ally and replacement. Rubin could have died knowing the bank was in good hands.

  Now what do I have? Empty-headed boys and senile old men. This bank would be nothing without me.

  Leaning back on the privy, he let his bowels do their vile work. Before he knew it, he had taken the letter out and was reading it for the hundredth time.

  Dear Sister,

  We found Pulmard, the stray kitten you left behind when you last visited. We tried to keep it safe at the temple, but unforeseen circumstances fell upon us, and the kitten fled into the Great Dark with one calling itself the scion. Though it is expected to return sometime in the near future, I implore you not to hold out hope for it. If it does return, perhaps you can have our father's servants come fetch it. I will keep it safe and fed and send it your regards.

  Your darling, beautiful and ever-so-admired sister,

  Glydin.

  Rubin grunted as a sharp cramp took the wind from him. He knew what he had to do. Why had he put it off for so long? He liked to think it was because he was too busy—but he knew that was a lie.

  At last, his bowels finished their messy business and he cleaned himself up. Perhaps when he got the unpleasant task out of the way, his health would begin to improve. Maybe when Aemon's rotting head sat on the desk before him, the cursed indigestion would go away!

  When Rubin got to his desk, he began scribbling a letter to his aide, then put the end of the quill to his lips. How much should the reward for Aemon's death be? It needed to be a rich amount, enough to entice even the most discerning assassin.

  Finally, he had a satisfactory number and wrote it down, stabbing the page with his quill as he signed it. Leaving it in the pile of papers his aide would gather later in the night, he dragged his chair over to the fire and stared into the flames.

  Rubin had nearly nodded off to sleep when the bell hanging on the wall rang once. The noise jolted him back to his feet. It had been more than a month since the bell had last rung. With aching joints, he hobbled over to his walking staff. "You should come to me! I am getting too old for this."

  Pressing the hidden button under his desk, Rubin waited for the secret door at the back of the room to open, then went to stand at the top of the corkscrew staircase leading down into the darkness. It took several seconds for the sacred lights on the wall to illuminate.

  As Rubin made the long descent he hobbled sideways, gripping his staff, taking one painful step at a time. Not so long ago, he had stridden down these steps with nary a thought in his head. Now, because of Aemon, he descended like a crippled old man.

  I am an old man, he reminded himself. Few live as long as I have.

  Reaching the bottom, he took a minute to get his breath back. The bell rang again upstairs. "I am coming, you ungrateful wretch. If you were not such a coward, and came out of hiding, you would—"

  He stopped his angry tirade as he neared the metal door. When he got to it, he tapped on it with his staff.

  A thumping sound came from inside, but then it stopped and a long silence followed. Rolling his eyes, Rubin leaned forward to listen. Come on, speak. I have better things to do than stand around in this dank basement.

  Rubin had served the bank's benefactor for many years, as had his predecessor and all the predecessors before him. They had all carried out the wishes of the stranger on the other side of the door, yet none of them had ever seen him, nor asked why they should serve. It was just the way of things, the way of the bank.

  Come to think of it, Rubin was not even sure the benefactor was a he. No one knew anything about him. According to the bank's oldest records, the benefactor had once been very hands-on in leadership of the bank, controlling everything from beyond this door. But for the last few centuries he had become more distant, sometimes not calling upon the serving Senior B
anker for weeks at a time. Which suits me fine, Rubin thought, his teeth starting to chatter. He longed to return to the warmth of the fire and slip off to sleep.

  Rubin tapped on the door again, but only silence followed. Gritting his teeth, he tried to be patient. Perhaps the benefactor had finally kicked the flowstone and was, at this very moment, rotting away and attracting vermin. Rubin peered into the darkened corners of the small room. He hated nothing worse than rats. Disgusting things.

  It would be just his luck if the benefactor was dead. Rubin would go down in history as the Senior Banker who let the bank's seemingly immortal owner die. Unlike the rumors the senior bankers had promulgated over the years, there were no secret noble families who controlled the bank, only the benefactor and his pawns. Pawns like Rubin Gamaston.

  This time Rubin banged his staff so hard on the door it sent a painful jolt up his arm. Cursing his sudden frailty, Rubin steadied himself against the wall until he was sure he would not topple over.

  Then he nearly leapt into the air when the benefactor's voice spoke through the door. It sounded different somehow. Stronger, louder, and tinged with... Rubin was not sure what. But he was certain he did not like it.

  "Servant Gamaston. Tell me the news."

  Rubin sneered. The benefactor always seemed to know more about what was going on than Rubin, and yet insisted the Senior Banker recite every tedious thing mentioned in the reports. It took almost an hour for Rubin to get through filling in the benefactor on current events.

  "And Aemon?" the benefactor asked. "Have you heard more about him?"