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

by Riley Morrison

  And yet, the dismal place had birthed personalities of great renown in Stelemian history. The first had been Ajarm, the hero of the Battle of Brecia who had led the heroic defense of the village against an incursion of giant horrors from the Great Dark.

  When Ajarm had arrived in the town of Brecia, he was a mere mercenary. When he left, his name was known throughout Stelemia as a great savior and heroic slayer of beasts. Over two hundred years later, he was still remembered, and the bones of the monsters he slaughtered now gave the place its name. Brecia Bone Fields. One of the most productive food-growing regions in Stelemia.

  Then there was Clodia, who was a mathematician of great renown. No one knew how she had learned numbers, as her parents were among the poorest in the hovels around Acid Lake and could neither read nor write. A merchant heard of her uncanny skills with numbers and gave her a job, and she turned his mediocre business into a mercantile empire. To this day, many decades later, his descendants still owned that business, and were one of the few larger enterprises not neck deep in debt to the bank.

  But most famous and beloved of all was Aemon's hero, Rexus of Acid Lake. The man who, fifteen years earlier, had killed the Boreal Beast single-handedly. A monster born of the Great Dark and so loathsome, men died from fear just looking at it. Rexus had made his name in the fighting pits of Dere-Zor, and the last Aemon had heard of him, he still made his home there, within sight of the pits, even after he had retired.

  Staring out at the lake, Aemon could see how such a man who grew up here came to be as tough and fearless as Rexus.

  Near eighteenth hour, they passed some distance from the outskirts of the large settlement called Shump Town. The citizens were in the process of erecting a crude stone wall to protect the town and had built about half of it. Men and women both hauled slabs of stone, chiseled out of a small quarry nearby.

  Royce put his hand up, and the line of soldiers came to a stop. "We will make camp here for the night." Several soldiers muttered about not entering the town. The captain pounded his shield on the ground to get their attention. "We cannot enter with these machines among us. It would start a riot."

  So they made camp. Indalius let go of Imogen, whom he had been pretending to guide, keeping up the pretense that she was blind. She sent him, the three other machine-men, Asura and the harvesters into a dip in the cavern floor, making them harder to spot from a distance. As the soldiers set up their makeshift sleeping arrangements, one of the harvesters peeked its head over the top of the dip to watch. Moment's later, a metallic hand dragged it from view.

  With the machines hidden, Imogen went over to Aemon, who sat at the edge of camp among a cluster of small stalagmites, hoping to be left alone. To his surprise, she sat and snuggled against him and draped a blanket over them both. He tried not to stiffen as she pulled up his sleeve and gripped his forearm. Slowly her nails began digging into his skin, not far from where Kara had scratched his arm after the fight with the rotmen.

  "Don't cry out," she hissed, the odd accent back in her voice. "I will kill you if you do, and after you're dead, I will kill the rest of them."

  "What do you want?" He gritted his teeth, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

  She watched the soldiers light a fire and mix a ration of soup into a pot. "First, I don't like being told what to do, especially by a man. Second, you agreed to Royce's terms without consulting me. I am happy to play as your submissive wife, but that doesn't mean you get to make decisions for me."

  Her nails dug deeper and he groaned. "I wanted to kill you when you dared tell me to use my genkey to show my power over my children. Once, no one would have spoken to me like that, because they knew what I'd do to them."

  He refused to apologize. Warm blood began to trickle through his fingers. If only I had my mace... "What did you expect me—"

  "I expected you to serve me like the other men I've graced with my presence in the past."

  "You wanted my help, so I gave it. You are heading to the temple—what else did you want me to do?"

  Her nails were in deep now; he could feel one of them flick off a ligament or artery. It took all his strength of will not to start screaming in pain. His life, and the lives of the soldiers around him, depended on his silence. Imogen could command her children to kill them all and turn them into more of her machines.

  "All I want is for you to seek my council first, then you can pretend you are the one making the decisions." She eased up and her voice became almost regretful. "I don't like having to hurt you like this. Not you. I only seek to save humanity out of a sense of duty, but you... you're the only person I truly care about in this world."

  He let his blood run onto the ground between them. He was almost too afraid to move. "How could you care about me if you hurt me like this and threaten my life?"

  She put her arm around him and rested her cheek against his. "I care about you, because she cared about you. She loved you, and that love has been passed on to me." Imogen sighed deeply. "This was one problem with the Transference. We were never able to fix it."

  He felt wetness on her cheek. Was she crying? She was crying. Aemon wanted to shudder.

  "Now I am stuck with her feelings for you." She sniffed. "It pains me to have to hurt you, but you made me so angry. Please don't make me angry at you again." She was almost like another person now. "It was your fault I had to do this."

  Aemon had no idea what to say to her. Part of him wanted to admit fault and comfort her, like he had comforted Kara—the other part wanted to kill her right there.

  She brushed her lips over his ear. "After I retrieve my armor, you're going to make love to me like my besotted male sycophants once did. But unlike them, I will whisper my love for you in your ear and you will cry out my name and tell me you love me too. You belong to me, Aemon."

  "No..."

  Her breath hissed between her teeth. "Aemon," she said coldly. "Don't make me—"

  "I do not want you. I will never want you."

  She squeezed him to her, his ribs creaking. "You will want me. Your brain might not, but your weak male body will. It will betray you. Just you wait."

  Some of the soldiers were watching them now, laughing among themselves, some making rude sexually suggestive gestures. Royce sat with the sergeant and watched them too. Aemon wanted to vomit.

  Covering up his forearm with his sleeve, she said, "Go wash the blood off your arm, but make sure no one sees what you're doing. We can't have them knowing who wears the boots in this marriage."

  Aemon had no idea what that meant, but did as she instructed. Afraid she would kill them all if he didn't.

  Imogen was insane.

  CHAPTER 18

  MINARD

  Two days after they left the Dead City, Minard and Erinie were ambushed from behind.

  Firing upon their attackers, with the flash of the rounds lighting the air, Minard only saw brief glimpses of their enemy. They were humans, but almost naked, with savage scars and ugly faces. As they continued to shoot at the attackers storming at them from half a dozen side passages, they continued to fall back, one step at a time.

  A spear flew past Minard's head, and he ducked down and crouch-walked backward. "We need to find somewhere we can make a stand," he roared over the booming of their weapons.

  Erinie glanced at him. "After three, let's start running. There should be a chamber not far from here."

  Minard counted down, then turned and ran. Erinie stayed beside him, occasionally stopping to fire at one of the enemy. Soon they arrived at a large chamber and stopped in surprise. A ramshackle settlement stood before them, lit by fires burning within metal pots.

  "What the?" Minard reloaded his gun. Bones littered the ground, and a pyramid of skulls was erected near the entrance to the settlement. Some human, others clearly not.

  Behind them came the roars of the enemy. "They're right behind us," Erinie cried, firing a few rounds at the first figure to charge them. "We have to go into the village and fight our
way through. The map showed an exit somewhere on the other end of this chamber."

  They started off again, and entered the settlement at a run. Scanning for movement, Minard took the lead.

  Then a whole horde of the enemy fell upon them. Some came from the primitive houses, others came from the narrow spaces between them. Others still seemed to appear out of thin air. "Keep moving," Erinie screamed. She took down five of them in one burst of fire.

  Minard opened up on the nearest painted heathen as they raced toward the center of the village. The damn guns were far better than he'd ever imagined. Never had he felt so in control of a battle as he did now. The ancients sure knew how to make things that could kill.

  More of the savages ran at them, wielding their bone axes, clubs and stone hammers. Minard grinned as he took them all down. Erinie fired at them from his side, her gun jolting her back a step with every shot.

  A savage ran at them from the doorway of one of the ramshackle buildings and hurled a stone a Minard. He ducked, and the missile missed. He went to fire upon the savage but she had disappeared around the corner of the house.

  "Come on, we need to keep going," Erinie said, reloading her weapon.

  The heathens had fallen back, hiding among their houses. Minard backed away, heading to the edge of town. When they arrived at the edge they found a large sump, its waters reflecting the glow of Minard's torch. Human skulls impaled on spears, some with dried skin still draped over them, were erected along the edge of the sump. Near them a giant metal cauldron hung over a pile of scorched hides.

  As they passed the cauldron, still scanning the village for more of the barbarians, Erinie gestured toward it. "That's where they cook their meat. They have an unwholesome taste for human flesh."

  Minard grimaced as he saw a hunk of meat, still dripping blood, hanging from a rack beside a house. "Who are they?"

  "My covenant called them bone-people." Erinie trained her gun on the window of a house. "Thought I saw one."

  "So you've run into them before?"

  "Yes. We were at war with them when my covenant was destroyed. Arden thought the passkey would save us, but it only brought our doom."

  They were in the stalagmites outside of town when they heard a great roar. Suddenly arrows flew through the air. Minard ducked down and started running, Erinie just in front. "Do you know where we're going?"

  She glanced back at him, just in time to dodge an arrow. It grazed her arm and she grunted in pain, but it didn't slow her pace. "No idea, but anywhere is better than here."

  They reached the edge of the cavern and found no way out. Minard glanced up, and saw a ledge not far above them. The savages had followed them out of the village and were cautiously moving among the stalagmites. "Let's climb up."

  Erinie nodded. "You go first, I'll keep them—"

  Two bone-brains dropped down and landed right beside them. They started flailing about with their weapons, one almost caving Minard's head in. Roryur's tears! Minard backed against the rock as a bone-woman, screeching incoherent threats, swung at him with her axe.

  He leaned to the side and the axe collided with the rock beside his head, sending shards of stone into his face. "Gah," he cried. She went to swing again, but he kicked her in the stomach. She screamed and backed away, gasping for breath, her sharpened teeth bared. "You are one ugly freak," he roared, then took her down with a single shot to the head.

  Then he remembered Erinie and spun around. He found her already preparing to climb, the bloody corpse of a bone-man sprawled beside her. "Get up there," she screamed, as arrows whistled through the air.

  Minard didn't hesitate, and started to climb. When he got to the top, he kept down and fired a few shots at the figures moving among the stalagmites below. Erinie climbed over the edge, and they both moved away.

  Walking backward, he kept an eye behind them as Erinie led them from the ledge. Suddenly he ran into her. "What—"

  "I'm going to make some acid and pour it all over her wretched face," Erinie said, fumbling in one of her bags.

  Minard spun around and saw a most unexpected sight—a Knife of Dwaycar lay on the ground, several feet from them, her dark hair covering her face. What was she doing here? Where had she come from? The Dead City?

  He stepped forward and kicked the knife in the side, spinning her onto her back. Out cold it seemed, and no threat to them.

  The knife was young, no older than him, but had clearly run into hard times of late. Her face was gaunt, splattered with blood, and she smelled of... He noticed what he was standing in. Perforated guts.

  Then he saw the dead painted savage with the huge white eyes and sharpened teeth. The knife must have killed him but had been injured in the process.

  Erinie cackled. "Now she's going to burn!"

  "Wait." Minard stopped her before she could tip the acid onto the knife. They had more pressing things to worry about.

  "Let go of me." Erinie struggled against him.

  A clamor of shouts and grunts started from below. The savages were nearing the bottom of the ledge and it would not be long before they began to climb. Erinie tried to throw some of the liquid onto the knife's face, but it hit her black leather armor instead. Instantly, the armor started to smoke as the acid spat and hissed.

  The knife opened her eyes and screamed, clawing at herself.

  Erinie threw more of the acid, some getting the woman on the cheek. The knife's hands went to her face as she shrieked in pain and terror.

  Minard grabbed Erinie's arms. "Stop. We need to get out of here before those pointy-toothed crazies catch up with us."

  It took agonizing seconds for sense to return to Erinie. She threw the bowl of acid at the knife, but it missed as the woman rolled out of the way. Erinie spat at her. "Stay here and die, you vile husk."

  The knife crouched in a defensive stance. After a moment, she teetered backward. Then he noticed she held her left arm at an odd angle. Broken. She wouldn't last long in a fight.

  Minard grabbed their things, keeping one eye on the knife to make sure she didn't try anything. Erinie went to throw a rock at the wounded woman, but Minard imposed himself between them. "Leave her be—we need to go. She's wounded and won't be able to flee from the savages anyway."

  Erinie made a rude gesture at the knife, then led Minard away. He glanced at the knife as they left. She was quite pretty, he gave her that. Too bad the bone-brained savages would be on her at any moment. Who knew what sort of horrible things they would do to her. Maybe I should have let Erinie kill her to spare her the torment.

  "Why did you help the scion, monk?" the knife called after him. "You believe in the prophecy. You know what she'll do."

  Her question took Minard by surprise. He didn't know how to answer. He had wanted to stop the scion, but Erinie... He gritted his teeth. None of it mattered now. He had to get out of there.

  The knife stumbled over to her sword as the first of the pointy-toothed savages pulled himself over the ledge. Grabbing it, she prepared for combat.

  Minard hurried away and left the knife to her fate.

  THEY WERE A LONG WAY from the settlement of crazies before Minard and Erinie collapsed into exhausted heaps amongst a cluster of broken boulders. Wings flapped in the darkness beyond their torchlight, but Erinie reassured him they were in no danger. Pungent dung covered the ground, and every now and then something flew above them with a high-pitched chittering squeak. Bats, like the ones who lived in the towers of the temple.

  Better them than the savages or some other hideous monster spawned of the dark.

  He could barely keep his eyes open, he was so tired, but he insisted on taking first watch. Ibilirith would ensure he didn't fall asleep while on duty. Erinie didn't argue and was asleep as soon as her face touched the ground.

  Minard doused the torch and listened to the flutter of wings. In the six or so hours since leaving the knife to die, he'd felt nothing but regret for leaving her behind. He picked up his staff and ran his fingers along it.
The cold metal always calmed the turmoil simmering deep within his soul.

  Why did he feel regret for leaving an opponent to their just end? It never would have bothered him before. She was an enemy of Ibilirith, a follower of the Betrayer. The knife deserved to die.

  Those thoughts didn't make him feel any better.

  He tried another tact. No one cared one bit for me, other than my mother. But father got to her soon enough and then went after me. Minard had played these thoughts out countless times over the years. They made him hard. They made him tough. They made him the best fighter in the Order.

  On the streets of Gravelbank, he'd had to fend for himself. He'd been born hard. Born strong. And even when I fell in love with Ibilirith, I had to prove myself to everyone and push myself harder than anyone else. He curled his lip. Why should I care what happens to weaklings? That knife shouldn't have let herself get wounded.

  Minard often struggled to care for anyone, and he certainly would not continue to let himself show any semblance of compassion for the knife. Ibilirith was my only love. He recalled Erinie's lips on his, the taste of her, the feel of her tongue in his mouth. Until I met you.

  Then he saw the knife's face in his mind's eye, and Erinie's lips were soon forgotten.

  Go away. You're dead now, woman. Leave me alone. He growled deep in his throat, squeezing his staff, feeling his muscles bulge. The woman's face didn't leave him. Why do I care?

  Was it her looks? No. Looks meant nothing when they belonged to an enemy. Was it that she was a woman? He had killed women in battle before. They gave as good as they got.

  Then he had it. She was a warrior like him, and had given her all to stop the scion. Just like I should have done. Except I was weak. I let my feelings get in the way.