Only time would tell.
Kara headed the direction that led deeper into the city and after a mile reached the next station. Climbing onto the platform, she shivered. It seemed her power to keep warm was being pushed to its limit.
This station seemed as silent and dead as the last one, but an unearthly eeriness hung over it. Far greater than what she'd felt earlier with the ghost man. Kara held her breath and tried to make no sound as she crept along. It felt wrong to tread here, as if she were trespassing on something she wasn't meant to.
Dread smothered her heart. She didn't like this place. Not one bit.
Kara made her way back to the rail line and dropped down and crouch-ran along the inside of the platform so nothing could see her from above. She'd need to keep going and hope the feeling she'd gotten here didn't follow her.
It took twenty minutes to reach the next station, this one larger than the previous two. Climbing onto the platform, she was relieved to not feel the lingering dread she'd experienced at the last one. Twin sets of broken escalators ran up the center of the station. They seemed to lead up to the next level. Not seeing anywhere comfortable to spend the night where she was, Kara climbed them and found herself on another platform. The rail lines on this level headed in different directions to the ones below.
A door leading into a stationmaster's office lay broken on the floor. Perhaps she could find a comfortable seat in there to sleep in. She made her way across the tiled floor then froze. A faint noise had broken the silence. Training her ears, she tried to work out where it came from.
It sounded like a woman crying from inside the office. Could it be the ghost woman?
After a moment's deliberation, Kara decided to risk seeing who was in there.
Sneaking to the edge of the doorway, she peered around the edge. A woman dressed in black leather armor sat against the back wall, her head buried between her knees, shivering uncontrollably. Clasped in her hand was a strange-looking egg-shaped object.
The stranger didn't look up as Kara stepped into the room. "Hello. Are you here or are you another ghost?"
The woman snapped her head up, dropping the object and sending it rolling across the floor. Kara froze in place, her heart skipping a beat. The woman looked like Kara had—back before the poison had changed her—but this woman had scars all over her face. "Who... Who are you?" Could it be Semira? How...
Screeching something incoherent, the woman leapt to her feet and dove for Kara. The impact knocked Kara off her feet and flat on her back, the woman landing on top of her. "Die, half-blood," the woman wailed, then clasped her fingers around Kara's neck and squeezed.
CHAPTER 3
MINARD
As soon as Minard saw what was approaching, he reached for his staff. The flower-faces had found them. His eyes flicked to his flanks. Ibilirith have mercy. They were in trouble. The enemies were coming at them from three sides! Their only avenues of escape were the poisoned aisle and the brown-marked one that could lead anywhere.
Erinie hurried down the latter aisle without a moment's hesitation. Minard raced after her, listening to the shuffling feet charging after them. Aemon's arm tightened around his ribs, almost constricting his breathing.
Suddenly, Erinie slid to a stop and Minard almost barreled into her. "Wha— " he started, but another one of the creatures dropped down in front of them and his words died in his throat.
The flower-thing rose to its root-like feet, its eyes bulging. "Ty prichinil nam bol'. Teper' vy umirayete."
Minard's heart pounded. They were surrounded! I knew I should have killed the scion. If I die, she's going to destroy everything! I have failed you, my Lady Ibilirith.
Erinie drew her dagger as it started forward, its vine-like limbs reaching out to grab her. One wrapped around her arm, but she sliced it with her dagger and it withdrew. Hold on, Erinie.
"Aemon, I have to put you down," Minard said, his eyes never leaving Erinie. "Crawl under one of the shelves and hide. I'll come back for you."
The vine-limb came for her again, but she sidestepped it and severed it off near the end. The creature howled, its all-too-human face contorting in pain, the vine writhing on the ground at her feet.
What are these things? More genetic monsters from the ancient world?
As Aemon crawled away, Minard saw movement in the corner of his eye. The flower-faces coming up behind them were close. He brandished his staff before him. "Come get me, vile heathens."
Without lowering his staff, Minard did a quick search for the quill pusher. He found Aemon had hidden under one of the shelves. Holy Lady, watch over him.
Then the vine-arms reached for Minard, and he started batting them away furiously. This was what he loved. Enemies in front, a prayer on his lips and companions to protect. Well, he'd rather not quite so many enemies; one-versus-one suited him just fine—but a fight was a fight and a monk had to make do. Forgive my failure, my lady Ibilirith, and see me victorious.
He smacked one flower-thing in the face with the butt of his staff. It made a satisfying crunch as its green blood spurted everywhere, its broken petals fluttering to the floor. Hearing a battle cry behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Erinie recklessly charge the flower-man in front of her and plunge her dagger hilt deep into its stem.
She could fight. He loved that. Maybe she was channeling some of her fiery rage she felt toward him on the enemy. Minard almost felt sorry for the flower-face she was dismantling. If she got enough of her anger out, maybe she would ease up on him. Assuming they lived...
Another enemy leapt at him from a shelf. Instinctively, Minard raised his staff and struck its stem. The staff bounced off its tough flesh, sending a jolt up his arm. Then the twisted beast was on him, teeth snapping and almost taking a chunk out of his nose. He dropped his weapon and held the creature back with his bare hands, its limbs flailing about him.
As he screamed obscenities into its face, a battle mantra started in his head. I am the rock foundation of the temple. I am the doors that protect her tomb. I am her servant for as long as she has need of me. I belong to Lady Ibilirith.
With a great, bellowing roar, he lifted the creature off the ground and rammed it against a crate. As he drove his fist into its bulbous nose, it opened its mouth and let out a long wail. Wrapping its vine-arms around his waist, it tried to crush the life out of him.
Minard head-butted it so hard, he saw sparks floating across his vision, its green blood spraying. The beast eased up its grip, its face a mangled mess of broken petals and ruptured green veins. He rammed his knee into its stem, heard wind explode from its broken mouth, then he shoved it aside contemptuously.
Another flower-thing came at him, this one partly burned. He lowered his shoulder and charged it like a rampaging ox. When he slammed into it, he sent it flying onto its back, limbs flailing, eyes wide with panic. Minard leapt forward and brought his booted heel down onto its face, and grinned at the squelching sound that followed. It spasmed once, then went still.
Another enemy purged in Ibilirith's holy name.
Erinie backed into him, keeping just beyond the reach of the vines. "We need to get out of here."
Minard retrieved his staff. "What about Aemon? We can't leave him."
The quill pusher was difficult to see under the shelves. Maybe they could lure the enemy away, then circle around and come back for him.
Five of the plant-things darted forward at once, their vine-arms undulating before them. Minard grabbed Erinie before she could be encircled, and dragged her back. Now that the creatures were fully in the light, he could get a better idea of what they were up against.
Some of the enemy had fire-blackened faces, others had torn petals, while another was missing one of its vine-arms. Their faces were twisted by rage, their green teeth gnashing together like a pack of hungry dogs.
Holy Ibilirith. Some of the light-forsaken things carried makeshift weapons in their viney arms. Minard counted several spears, daggers, and a few sword
s. How intelligent were these bloody things? How could they forge weapons with hands like theirs?
Three of the creatures following the first group suddenly stopped and headed toward Aemon. No. Somehow, they'd seen him!
The quill pusher backed away as the flowers sent forth their arms to grab him. Light curse it. There were five enemies between Minard and Erinie and the three threatening him. Too many to fight. But he would try to get to Aemon anyway. Terrible odds meant little when one had Ibilirith on their side.
Minard started forward, staff gripped in sweaty hands, eyes scanning for his first target. Then Erinie grabbed him, jolting him out of his battle focus. "Wait, we can't attack them head-on. We need to fall back and try to circle around."
"But we need to get Aemon." I shouldn't have been so hard on him.
"Do you want to die?" She glared at him.
Taking a second look at the situation, Minard quickly decided she might be on to something. Those flower-faces were armed with real weapons, and could easily overwhelm him. More vines came for them, and among them were spears and swords. Erinie took his arm and they backed away together.
"Vy ubili nas. Teper' umri," one of the flower-things raged.
"What are they saying?" Minard asked.
"How should I know?"
The more he heard their language, the more he thought it sounded familiar. It reminded him of the ancient language of Ibilirith he'd learned from the priests and acolytes during his early years in the Order. If only he'd paid more attention in his classes, he might have been able to understand what the bloody things were saying.
"I'm not liking these odds," Minard said, as yet another flower-thing came up behind the others. "But I also don't want to run away blindly and get lost."
Erinie shoved a hand in one of her pouches. "Maybe if we can get far enough away from Aemon, I could use an explosive on them. But..."
"But what?"
She glanced at the shelves walling the aisle. "What if the explosion knocks over one of these shelves, and it brings the others down with it?"
He raised an eyebrow. "So what if they fall?"
"Who knows what's stored here? We ran into poison. There could be something worse."
Minard kicked at a writhing vine from one of the dying enemies. "I guess Aemon's on his own until we can find a way to get rid of these things." He hated saying it, but it was true.
Erinie cursed. She clearly didn't like leaving Aemon behind either. Minard had grown to like Aemon, and he could say that about few people in his life.
The quill pusher had come a long way since the temple, and more than once he had impressed Minard with his bravery. They mightn't have seen eye to eye on everything, and he had certainly taken perverse satisfaction in riling Aemon up, but he was sure the other man had no hard feelings toward him.
After all, how could anyone not like a handsomely bald and dashing warrior like me?
And while he thought of it, Aemon was far better company than the tedious curmudgeon Wrynric had been—Ibilirith watch over his soul. That graybeard was as upbeat as my murderous old father used to be, and my father never smiled once in his life! I've seen a lump of granite with a better sense of humor than those two.
Even with an injured leg and no torch, Aemon could use his mace to pound the face of any flower-thing that came at him.
Aemon screamed. Or not. Maybe he was going to die.
They had to hurry!
"Come on," Minard said, reaching for Erinie. Don't let them get you, Aemon, I'm coming back for you.
Erinie raced off on her own. As Minard ran after her, he took one last look back at the quill pusher and found he'd already disappeared beyond the edge of light.
The flower-things still pursued them, but Minard and Erinie soon left them behind. When they no longer heard anything behind them, they slowed their pace and allowed themselves a moment to catch their breaths.
They were all that remained of the five who had left the heathen refuge of Safehold. How long had it been since then? A week? It felt like a year. Aemon's not dead yet, you fool. Stop thinking this way. He'll pull through.
Hearing scraping noises drawing closer, they continued on aimlessly, walking down the silent aisles, past ancient crates with their unidentifiable contents, searching for a way to circle back to Aemon. At one point, they slid under the shelving and almost ran into another flower-face. It didn't see them, so they backed away and hurried on. There were obviously more of the things in the giant room with them.
His heart kicked. For all he knew, there could be a hundred of them one aisle over!
Eventually, the shelving ended and they came to a half-open metal door. Beside it was a terminal like the one the scion had used the passkey on.
If only one of the acolytes were here to see the things Minard had seen since reaching the Dead City. His Order could spend years scouring the ancient ruins for the sacred technologies of Ibilirith.
Minard glanced at Erinie, then at the door as he considered their options. Either they went back along another aisle toward Aemon and hoped they didn't encounter more of the flower-creatures, or they headed through the door to see what was on the other side.
Erinie studied the strange writing and symbols painted on the door. To Minard, it all looked like a child's scrawl. He cleared his throat. "Maybe we should take one of the other aisles and head—" She ducked under the door. "Hey, wait." He quickly followed her.
When they were both in, Erinie held her torch up. Another large room spread out before them, its exact dimensions invisible beyond the illumination of their flickering light. There didn't seem to be anything posing a threat, so Minard turned his attention to the rows of racks throughout the room. They were similar to the weapon racks in the armory at the temple.
Erinie ran forward with a childish look of wonder that brought a grin to his face. You are so beautiful when you smile like that.
She stopped at the nearest rack. "Can it truly be?"
He hurried up to her. What was she on about?
"Lost Sun, be praised." Her eyes blazed with energy. "These racks are filled with weapons!"
He ran his eyes over the dust-covered objects lining the aisle. "Weapons?" He tapped one with his staff. "I've never seen weapons like these."
"That's because they don't exist anymore." She put the torch down and grabbed one. "This is a firearm."
"A what?"
"A firearm. Our ancestors used to use them as weapons. Well, at least according to files on our computers back at Sunholm. Supposedly, the scions of my covenant used to possess some. Then at some point in the distant past, the last scion warrior to carry one never returned from a scouting trip, so knowledge of them became consigned to history."
Minard picked one up, brushed the dust off, and studied it. "How do you know it's a firearm if you've never seen one?"
"Because there were images of them in the files. Like someone had painted a picture, but somehow made it look real."
"You mean a photo. The Inquisitors have devices that can take pictures of people or objects and render them in their hand-held sacred computers."
Erinie shrugged. "It sounds like what we have in our records." She raised the firearm to her eye. "Once we find some ammunition, we can go back out there and rip those creatures apart!"
Minard liked the sound of that. We're coming back for you, Aemon, and then I'm going to hunt down the scion and kill her!
CHAPTER 4
KARA
"Get off me! Get off," Kara cried. She tried to pry the other woman's hands from around her throat but the grip was too tight.
"Half-blood," the woman screamed. "Just die. He banished me here because of you!"
Kara's lungs burned from lack of air. If she didn't manage to find a way to break free, she was done for. Closing her eyes, she fought to focus her mind, straining against the fingers at her throat. A strange tingling feeling started in her head, like the one she'd felt when she attacked Aemon at the Tomb of Ibilirith. The fe
eling radiated down her arms and into the fingers she had clasped around the other woman's wrists.
A blast of invisible energy hurled the woman across the room. Gasping for air, Kara sat up and found her slumped against the brick wall at the back of the office. Her eyes were closed. Perhaps dead or unconscious.
Taking in a few deep breaths, Kara studied her own hands. What had happened? The tingling feeling was gone, yet she felt different inside. Like something at the back of her mind had been woken or remembered after a long time of being forgotten. Was it magic? Or did it belong only in the world of the visiondream? Maybe this power had been keeping Kara warm since she'd arrived.
She turned her attention to the leather-clad woman across the room. The two of them shared many features. It had to be Semira, for who else could it be?
Had Erinie killed her back in Annbar and her soul had been sent to the visiondream? Other scions had the dreams, but Wrynric had said they only saw images and experienced feelings. To Kara, this world was as real as her own.
Thinking of the old man made her want to weep. She'd never gotten to say goodbye. Imogen had taken that from her and Semira had taken his life from him.
Kara pondered what to do. If anyone deserved to die, it would be Semira.
Yet, her sister looked so vulnerable and broken, one tormented by shadows of her own making. Remember who she is. I mustn't let my guard down.
In her mind, Kara saw Wrynric saying farewell to the others. His sad, grim look, his hunched shoulders and weathered face. He'd known all along who'd been following them and he'd known she would kill him. Kara shook with sudden rage. This vile killer deserves nothing but suffering and pain.
Kara went over to her sister and knelt before her. Semira's eyes were closed, her chin resting on her chest, breath shallow. After a long moment of hesitation, Kara reached out and held her hand over Semira's face. I could easily kill you if I wanted. But no. Not yet. First, I want to know why you did what you did and then...
The Lost Sun Series Box Set 1: Books 1 and 2 (Lost Sun Box Set) Page 46