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

by Riley Morrison

  Shaking from the cold, Kara sat in the corner of the room. Semira collapsed across from her. Her sister shook so much, her teeth sounded like they were rattling out of her head. "We should huddle next to one another to keep warm," Kara said.

  Semira blew out a puff of misty air. "Aren't you afraid I'll murder you in your sleep?"

  Kara forced herself to meet her sister's gaze. "You saw what I did to the Great Shadow and you felt a bit of my power when I hurled you across this very room."

  Semira lowered her eyes to the floor, her fist clenched tight around the toy.

  My heart is ice. "You aren't a threat to me, at least not here. No doubt you need me more than I need you." It felt good to feel in control of her life again. Back home, Kara had felt so weak and powerless. Here, she was the one with the power and could hurt her enemies like they'd hurt her. Just you wait, Imogen. I'm coming for you.

  Slowly, Semira got up and padded over and sat near her. "You need to get closer," Kara said.

  Her sister slid next to her. "As soon as the Lost Sun returns, I'm going to leave. I don't want to spend any more time here with you than I have to. Half-blood."

  Sharp anger made Kara hiss. "Call me that again, and I'll—"

  "What? Kill me? Hurt me?" Semira's laugh came out in a short bark. "Nothing you can do will ever compare with the torment I've endured already. I've dealt with people who wanted to hurt me my whole life. My own mother tried to kill me when I was five!"

  Kara didn't know what to say to that. She'd heard a little of Semira's life, and met Meridia, her mother, and had even felt sorry for her because of the way she'd been treated by the other scions. That had been before she knew Semira was the one hunting her.

  Yet, hearing the pain in Semira's voice made Kara feel an uncomfortable amount of empathy toward her. Most of Kara's remaining memories were those of fleeing Semira and the other murderous Knives of Dwaycar. Never would Kara have dreamed of them being united in this way, nor that she might ever think of feeling sorry for Semira after all her sister had done.

  Semira deserved death for all the evils she'd inflicted upon others, including her own family. And yet, now that Kara had spoken to her and seen a glimmer of the tormented person behind the angry facade, it became discomforting to think about taking revenge upon her.

  "I'll keep first watch," Kara said eventually, suppressing her fatigue and the unsettling thoughts. My heart is ice. There can be no pity left in me. Least of all for my enemies. I can never let myself be weak again.

  "Fine." Semira closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep within moments.

  When morning comes, I'll make you tell me everything you know. Then you can scuttle off and die. Kara ground her teeth and tried to wallow in her hatred of Semira, but it made her tired. She'd never hated anyone before—except for her father—or held a grudge. It wasn't her way. Things are different now. I have to be stronger than I have ever been. My rage will be what sets me free.

  So she clung to the hatred, held it, caressed it, let it burn inside her. At some stage, it occurred to her Semira might not have any answers either. She might not know anything about how Kara could escape the visiondream. Then what will I do with her? Put her out of her misery? Let her go? Best leave that decision for another time.

  Kara briefly touched the mass of Imogen's memories piled into her brain, but quickly got overwhelmed by a million different images, feelings, random thoughts and countless other experiences the fraud of a divine had encountered over the years of her life. Where do I even start?

  The ghost woman seemed to be the only option Kara had. But where was she? What direction should Kara head to find her? There was a whole world out there, and the ghost woman could be anywhere. Despair set in. Oh, Aemon, I wish you were here. I could really do with a friend right now.

  Kara let her memories of him calm her thoughts and stoke her rage. She would find a way out of the visiondream and stop Imogen. And when she returned, she would give Aemon the biggest kiss of his life!

  THE ROOM SLOWLY BECAME coated in a thin layer of ice as the night wore on, but for some reason it stopped forming a few feet from them, as if the two women were surrounded by a bubble of warmth. Kara had been nodding off for some time, lulled by the cold and deathly silence, and could fight her fatigue no more. She went to shake Semira awake but stopped as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  Footsteps sounded from somewhere in the darkness outside the room.

  Semira stirred from sleep and looked around, but said nothing.

  "Stay quiet," Kara whispered, her fatigue forgotten. "Something is out there."

  Thankfully, Semira didn't argue. The two women climbed to their feet. Whatever was making the sound was coming their way. Kara waited for the tingling sensation in her head, but so far it hadn't come. Were they in danger? Could it be one of the ghosts she'd seen in the previous visiondreams?

  Or was it the ghost woman?

  Neither of them had a weapon. Unless Kara's power came to her, they would have to rely on their hands and feet to defend themselves. A cold gust of wind made them both stiffen, their breaths faint puffs of mist, near invisible to Kara's attuned vision.

  The footsteps were slow but they sounded human. Whoever was making them didn't seem to be trying to conceal their presence, as the footfalls were loud in the otherwise silent station.

  Semira scanned the room, probably looking for something to use as a weapon. There wasn't much, other then some broken wooden boards and a few rusted metal chairs. Where was the tingling sensation when Kara needed it?

  Suddenly, the footsteps increased their pace. Whoever was out there would be on them in moments. With little else available, the women each grabbed a metal chair and held it over their heads. When the stranger appeared in the doorway, they were going to be in for a barrage of frozen missiles.

  The footsteps stopped at the side of the door and deep stillness descended over the station. Kara and Semira took in quick breaths, the chairs above their heads shaking as they began to shiver from the cold.

  After a long moment of waiting, Kara couldn't take the tension any longer. "Who's there? Show yourself or I'll come out there and hurt you like I hurt the Great Shadow."

  "Imogen who is Kara?" came a startled voice from outside.

  What was going on? How did they know her name?

  "Show yourself."

  Something moved at the doorway, like shadow on shadow. Then it coalesced into the image of a pale-skinned boy holding an oil lamp. "Imogen, who is Kara," the boy said, reaching out a small hand to her. "I need you."

  CHAPTER 7

  MINARD

  "Get that bloody sword away from me," Minard roared at the figure standing over him. The sword hovered over his stomach. The blade was on fire, with golden flames. Minard might have thought it was beautiful, if it hadn't been ready to plunge down into his guts.

  The figure didn't withdraw its weapon.

  "Let me up and let's fight like men."

  "Who are you?" Erinie asked the figure holding the sword. She had her back to a shelf, her firearm sitting on the ground several feet from her.

  Minard could see little of the figure beyond the flames, but whoever or whatever it was, it had made short work of the flower-faces. At least the ones he and Erinie hadn't torn to pieces with ammunition. Once it had finished with the flowers, it had set upon Minard and Erinie, disarming them and knocking him to the ground. Minard hadn't been hit that hard since the time his father had beaten him to within an inch of his life.

  The figure picked up Minard's torch and held it up so he and Erinie could see what it looked like. By Roryur's soiled undergarments! Minard thought. The bloody thing appeared human but not human at the same time.

  Erinie recoiled in horror. "Who... What are you?"

  With an electrical whir, the figure said, "When I was a man, I was called Mordahi. Now, I am a child of Imogen."

  It spoke Stelemian, though with an odd accent Minard couldn't place. Mordahi s
hifted the sword, though kept it close enough it could skewer Minard to the ground with a sudden movement. He pictured himself being stuck to the floor with the sword through him, flailing about and screaming. That wasn't how he wanted to go out. Anything (well, almost anything) but that.

  Putting the horrible image aside, Minard tried to take in what stood over him. Mordahi's body was made of metal, with wires and struts running down its body. Its head still looked human but encased in some kind of clear protective case, like the glass around a light bulb, and its eyes were small yellow globes. Was he some sort of half-human, half-machine hybrid?

  Minard had heard of the ancients having many wondrous and now long-forgotten technologies during the golden age when Ibilirith still walked as a mortal. But he'd never heard of anything sounding like a half-human, half-machine hybrid freak. Who comes up with something like this? His mind went to the only plausible answer.

  Dwaycar.

  The freak's pallid gray tongue licked its metallic lips. "Pray to your divines you do not share my fate." It reached up to touch the protective case around its face. "At this moment, Mother is deciding your fate."

  Minard gave the freak his most winning grin (and hoped it would work here as well as it did on the female monks back home). "Hey, Mordahi. Can you get your weapon away from me? I'll be good and won't try to attack you again."

  Mordahi ignored him.

  Erinie leaned forward. "Now we know your name, can you tell us what you are?"

  To Minard's surprise, Morhahi was very forthcoming. "I am one of Mother's only remaining children who lived in the old world before the evacuation of Annbar. Once I was a commander, serving under Grand General Lyndon. During the fighting in Annbar between Mother's harvesters and the human guards, I fell in battle. When I came to, I found parts of me had been placed into the unit you see before you." A metal gear whirred. "The transition from flesh... to this... was not pleasant."

  Erinie covered her mouth. "That's horrible."

  The machine freak's fate didn't sound so bad—on parchment at least. Minard's Order strived to maintain the holy technologies of Ibilirith. He himself had climbed through the innards of the machines at the power plant and had wondered what it would be like to become part of the metallic pipes and pistons. To be a simple cog in the great machine that was his order and the millennia-old engines and lights it maintained. It was all a nice fantasy, but seeing human flesh grafted to metal, like he did now, turned the fantasy into something dark.

  This is wrong. Unholy heresy.

  "Who is your mother?" Erinie asked.

  "Her name is Imogen, Mother of Steel Children."

  Imogen. Minard frowned, his thoughts turning back to the conversation at the temple. The scion had said the ghost woman in her vision had told her that someone called Imogen was inside her.

  Erinie took a cautious step toward the machine. "Do you know of a woman named Kara? Where is she?"

  "Kara? I do not know that name." Mordahi's eyes flickered. "Mother wants me to bring you to her."

  The freak moved its sword so Minard could stand. When he was on his feet, he was about to let loose on Mordahi when its sword retracted into the hilt, the flames disappearing inside it. What in Ibilirith's holy name?

  "Gather your things and follow me," Mordahi commanded. "If you try to run, Mother will send her machines after you and you will both undergo the same transcendence I have. For your sake—I suggest you do what she says."

  Minard glanced at Erinie, and they shared a long look. Her brown eyes mirrored his fears. Where were they being taken? What was going on?

  They gathered their equipment and the unloaded firearms, then took the torch from Mordahi and followed him along the aisle. They'd not gone more than a dozen feet when he noticed eyes, low to the ground, glittering out in the darkness. Minard fingered his unloaded firearm, wishing instead it was his staff. What else was out there?

  "As long as you follow me and do not cause trouble, you have nothing to fear from them," Mordahi intoned.

  The freak's comment didn't make Minard relax at all. His heart pounded like it did before battle, his muscles quivering, adrenaline pumping.

  More eyes observed them from the darkness, just beyond the edge of the light. "What are they?" Minard asked, admitting to himself he was becoming more than a little afraid.

  "They are Mother's harvesters."

  Harvesters. Minard felt sweat on his bald scalp. The scion had unleashed the harvesters of the prophecy. Patriarch Lucien had been right and Inquisitor Marriot wrong.

  What have I done? I should have killed the scion when I had the chance. Instead, I let my feelings for the heretics get the better of me. He wanted to strangle Erinie. Look what you made me do. You softened me up with your lips and your gentle touch. I shouldn't have let you get to me the way you did. Why did you have to complicate everything?

  Erinie came to walk close to Minard, as if sensing his turmoil. She touched his arm but he refused to look at her. Sighing, she asked the freak, "Why are they watching us?"

  "They are curious is all," Mordahi replied. "It is in their nature to be curious. Always scrutinizing, studying, planning—so they learn the strengths and weaknesses of their prey."

  "Their prey being?"

  Mordihi glanced at the eyes in the darkness. "Anything with a heartbeat."

  Minard leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Harvesters are mentioned in the Prophecy of Ibilirith. You shouldn't have stopped me from killing the scion."

  Erinie bit her lip, her face grave, shoulders slumped. "But Arden said..." Her voice trailed off.

  He wanted to scream obscenities at her and tell her Arden was a heretic and that his visions were heretical nonsense. But he couldn't bring himself to. She might hate him for what he'd done, but he couldn't bring himself to hate her. Not her. Never her.

  I swear she put some weird alchemical concoction in that stuff she made me swallow before we kissed. He'd never felt the way he did about Erinie with any other woman. If she were anyone else, he'd not hold back. Roryur's tears. My life used to be simple. I hated everyone, except my Holy Lady. What has Erinie done to me?

  Minard touched her on the arm. He had no idea what to tell her to cheer her up. After all, he himself wasn't exactly in a cheery mood. Instead, he said nothing and hoped she'd take some comfort from his touch. Women were touchy and feely, after all. Erinie was angry at him, but they were in this together—and only together would they get out of it.

  Ahead, a red glow shone through the gaps between crates strewn through the aisle. Minard had half-raised the firearm before he remembered it had no ammunition. "What is that light?"

  Mordahi increased his pace. "It comes from Mother's genkey."

  The machine freak said nothing further as he led them toward the light. Arriving at the crossroads they'd been at earlier, Minard could finally see the source. The scion's passkey.

  Minard raised the firearm, his finger moving to the trigger. Erinie shoved it back down. "You fool, it's not loaded. Are you trying to get us killed?"

  He glared at her, but kept the firearm pointed at the ground.

  The scion knelt next to the quill pusher and seemed to be wiping down his face with a rag. A crude splint covered his injured leg, and his leather armor sat on the ground next to him. Both glanced over at them, as Erinie and Minard approached. Beside the scion stood another metal brain, taller than Mordahi and just as horrifying.

  "You are alive!" Aemon exclaimed, sitting up.

  Mordahi stood aside and let Erinie and Minard continue on their own. The two stopped a dozen feet from the scion. Erinie and the other woman studied one another. Minard studied the scion too, heart racing, muscles ready to spring at her and take her out before the freaks could stop him.

  The scion looked different somehow, and no longer carried herself like she was burdened with injuries or fatigue. Erinie put a restraining hand on his arm. "Let me talk to her before you get us both killed with your foolishness."

  "I
don't trust her," Minard growled under his breath. "We should—"

  "Be quiet," Erinie hissed, then took a few steps forward. "Aemon, are you alright? What is she doing to you?"

  The quill pusher glanced at the scion before he spoke. "She is helping me."

  The scion's eyes burned into Erinie's. "What happened to you, Kara?" Erinie asked.

  "She is not Kara anymore." The quill pusher's voice had a hysterical edge to it. "Her name is Imogen."

  Standing, the scion said, "It is true, I am Imogen. Kara is gone."

  Minard's vision became ringed by red. "I knew there was something up with you. The prophecy is true, isn't it?" I should have killed her. I have failed you, Lady Ibilirith.

  The scion grinned. "You should bow and kiss my feet, monk." She held the passkey high. "For I am your Divine Ibilirith. It is my armor you have hidden under your temple."

  "It is true," the quill pusher said.

  What? "Sacrilegious lies!" Minard raised his firearm and hunted for some ammunition.

  Suddenly, Mordahi strode forward and cut the weapon in half with its flaming sword. Blobs of superheated metal scalded Minard's hands. "Gah," he cried and tossed the weapon away before it could catch his clothes on fire. The other half of the weapon smoldered on the ground at his feet, the end a pool of molten slag.

  He backed away from it just as the freak's fiery blade arced toward him.

  "Stop, Mordahi," the scion ordered. "Do not harm him."

  The metal brain stopped, but its eyes flared with newfound light. Minard went to grab his staff from his back. The other firearms weren't loaded either, but his staff was ready. He snarled. It was always ready.

  Before Minard could swing his weapon, the machine freak punched him in the guts. "Gaforf," Minard grunted, the wind rushing from his lungs, blood spraying from his mouth. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, fighting to draw breath, mewling like a baby.