Opening its jaws wide, it began to close them around her neck.
CHAPTER 24
SEMIRA
Teeth, claws and flying debris was all Semira saw as she dove out of the way. Landing on her stomach, she continued to roll until she hit the wall. There, she took stock of the situation.
A beast the size of a juvenile aurtark flailed about in the center of the room. It looked like a giant cat, but one made up of churning entropy. Ice went through her veins. There were human-like faces ceaselessly forming and reforming within the flesh of the creature.
The beast wasn't bound by the rules of nature, but by the dark and mysterious powers governing the world of the visiondream. A long mane of bloody white hair hung out the side of the creature's mouth.
The half-blood's.
Semira shuddered as her sister began a high-pitched wail. The beast swung its head from side to side, letting out a hungry whine. Blood sprayed the walls and into Semira's face as the creature's fangs shredded deep into her sister's flesh.
Semira hesitated, undecided on what to do. She could flee out the door and make a run for it and hope there weren't any more monsters outside, or she could move to the next room and make a stand with Aisha and Sasha. Or...
She could attack the beast and try to save the half-blood.
No. The half-blood isn't worth saving, not after saying what she said. Semira wiped her sister's blood from her face. Maybe the monster will scratch out your eyes and look at you like a worthless, putrid pile of dung like you look at me.
It wasn't as if the half-blood would die anyway. She'd just feel endless pain and suffering. Just like I do.
An earsplitting roar tore through the room as the creature arched its head upward, spraying more blood across the room. My dear daughter, there is one thing you can do to return to the Light of the Lost Sun. Protect your sister and help her fulfill her destiny. You are all she has.
Those were her father's words, spoken not long before the servants attacked. His words had angered her then. Why couldn't Semira have some great destiny of her own? Why did everything always have to be about someone else?
But now his words gave her purpose. She'd try to save her sister, if only to please him, and to lessen the horrid guilt she carried with her.
As Semira hurled her makeshift weapon at the creature's huge blank eye, it became a traveling shovel of death. The eye exploded in an eruption of gray goo, sending out a puff of putrid gas. The stench of the corruption. A frantic roar of pain tore through the air.
From the roiling entropy of the beast's flesh formed the likeness of the half-blood's face. It was a twisted and warped thing, its mouth open and letting out an all-too-human scream. More faces bubbled to the surface, some Semira's, others the half-blood's.
All screaming in unison.
Semira didn't recoil. She'd faced down monsters before, many of her own making. Snatching up the shovel, she drove it into one of the faces. To her surprise, it sank in easily, as if she'd driven it into the silt beside a cave river. The face became distorted and then ill-formed before melting away all together.
Ripping the shovel out, she rammed it into the side of the beast's neck. It sank in easier than before and Semira's hands disappeared inside the creature's flesh. It felt like she'd reached into icy water. Unseen things brushed against her arms, making her picture the black eels in the Mergen Sump that had swum around her legs as a child. Then one had bitten her...
In a panic, she tried to tear her arm free of the writhing beast, but an entropic human hand burst out and clasped around her neck.
The shovel was torn from her grip and disappeared inside the creature. Gasping, Semira tried to pry the icy fingers from her neck, but found she couldn't get a grip on them. The hand dripped with slippery black slime that ran down the front of her leather vest and froze her midriff. It splattered across the floor, and she slipped and fell to her knees. Blood pounded in her temples as the hand started to drag her forward. The faces cried out her name, waiting for her to become part of the beast like they had.
Help me, help... she cried silently, unable to speak, unable to breathe.
Semira saw a fleeting glimpse of Wrynric in her oxygen-starved mind. How? Was it really him? Or just her panicked mind playing tricks on her?
She was close to the beast now, no more than two feet—two feet from drowning inside it. Help me, Wrynric, help me please. Black ooze began to spew out of the mouths of the faces. They gnashed their teeth, waiting to sink them into her flesh as soon as she got within reach. The image of the old man gave her a disapproving frown and turned his back on her.
No, don't do this to me, Semira cried. I need you. I need you. He began walking away, toward a distant circle of glowing white light. Wrynric! He disappeared in a bright flash. I'm sorry...
The old man was gone, as if he had never been.
Great sorrow filled Semira. Whether he had been real or not didn't matter. Everyone had turned their back on her. She was useless. No one needed her; no one wanted her. No one cared. Already she'd failed her father. Like she always had. She'd not protected the half-blood like he had wanted. Now she and her sister would suffer together endlessly.
Searing pain ran up her right hand. It felt like she'd touched fire.
Then it hit Semira. She'd touched the lamp.
Ignoring the pain, she snatched it up. One of the faces howled and sank its teeth into her scarred left cheek and thrashed around like a hungry dog tearing at a chunk of meat. Semira screamed in agony and terror and brought the lamp up from under the beast and drove it deep into its belly. The hand around her neck let go and the teeth gnawing at her cheek withdrew. The beast roared, its tail swinging around and smashing down part of the cabin wall. A section of the roof caved in on top of it, and it fought to scamper free.
Semira's scream was lost over the sound of the beast's thrashing. She desperately tore her arms free and recoiled in terror. My arms are on fire!
Flames ran up them, searing her flesh with unspeakable heat and ghastly pain. Something leapt past her, disappearing outside with a great rush of air.
Then the world blurred into chaos and flame.
SEMIRA JOLTED AWAKE to find darkness and awful, soul-crushing agony. "My arms," she screamed. "My arms are on fire!"
"Stop. Keep still."
Who had spoken? Her mind drowned in pain. She couldn't focus on anything. Lost Sun, help me. The pain.
Something held her down. Then, as if a veil had been drawn, clarity set in. It was dark and she was outside the cabin, her arms buried in the snow. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sasha kneeling on her back. He studied her, his little eyes desperate, his face covered in soot. "Can you understand me?"
She nodded, unable to speak through the pain.
He looked at the cabin and she followed his gaze. Much of it was in ruin, some of it still burned. "Mother is trying to help Imogen who is Kara," Sasha said. "The shadow beast got her good."
Semira choked out words through gritted teeth. "Is the beast gone?"
"Yes, but Mother is worried more will come." He spun to face her, tears streaking his blackened face. "Kara. She is really hurt."
"Let go, I want to see my arms," Semira snapped.
When he didn't move, she scowled at him and he quickly got off and backed away. Ripping her arms from the snow, she staggered to her feet and stumbled over to the broken cabin door leaving a trail of red snow in her wake. Glancing inside, she saw Aisha on her knees beside a crumpled form. Semira stepped inside and held her arms before the light of a burning rafter.
Stunned, she fell onto her backside, sending a jolt of pain up her spine. Both her arms were blackened, the flesh seared all the way to the bone, her hands nothing more than charred lumps of smoldering meat. The left one blissfully had no feeling left in it, the nerves having burned away. Both bled profusely.
Her chest tightened, her heart thumping like a hammer against rock. If one could not die in the world of the visiondream, th
en this pain and the burns would endure forever.
No... It wasn't possible. She'd suffered enough already.
"You saved us," Aisha said. "You drove the beast away."
Semira couldn't speak. My hands... What am I going to do?
Sasha went to Semira's aid. He tried to help her off the floor but didn't seem to know how to go about it. She shoved him away with her foot, sending him sprawling backward to the ground. He cried out and crawled over to his mother.
Her father's voice came to her. Protect your sister and help her fulfill her destiny. You are all she has.
Semira struggled to her knees, fighting for breath. If I lost my arms, what is left of my sister? Have I failed utterly?
She slowly walked on her knees to the half-blood's side, struggling to deal with the pain shooting up her arms. The pain was far worse than when Dwaycar had forced her to unearth his tomb, making her dig with broken fingers.
When she saw what was left of the half-blood, Semira grimaced. Much of her face was gone, exposing her skull, matted with blood-drenched white hair. Ragged slashes ran down her sister's neck and through her chest. A claw had torn through her flesh and perforated the lung beneath her broken ribs. Blood was everywhere, so much there would be little left to spill.
Semira turned away and gagged. She couldn't bring herself to look anymore. I failed you, Father. I am so unworthy of forgiveness. I shouldn't have agreed to protect her. I shouldn't have even tried!
Another vow broken. Another blemish on her soul. Would her pitiful, wretched existence ever end?
Kara moaned and writhed, raising a mangled arm toward Semira. It was impossible to tell if Kara could see, as her one remaining eye was caked in bloody hair. The hand shook, but somehow she held it up.
"I think she wants you to take it," Aisha said.
Semira glanced down at her own ruined hands. She had no way to take it. Yet, part of her wanted to. But the other part wanted to run away from such feelings and bury itself in the all-too-familiar shroud of self-loathing and rage she cloaked herself in.
A sudden bout of headspins made Semira topple sideways, the world spinning around in circles. Eventually, it steadied and she made sense of things again. Blood had pooled under her. She would have to try to stop her blood loss before...
Before what? She couldn't die. What would happen if every drop of it was spilled?
Semira glanced at Kara and found her hand had fallen back to the floor. What would her sister's life be like from this day forth? How would they get out of here? What if another beast found them and tore them apart? One will linger on and on, in great pain and terror, never feeling the blissful release of death—living forever with the wounds you bear. Aisha's warning. Now made real.
There would be no escape for any of them.
Suddenly, Sasha ran to the broken entry and peered outside. "Mother, I heard something."
Aisha left Kara's side and went to stand over him. A moment later, she grabbed Sasha and dragged him back. Semira stumbled toward them. "What's out there?"
"Servants." Aisha pulled her son back inside. "Dozens of them."
Semira reached the door, grunting in pain. "I don't see—"
Then she saw them. Black on black. Converging on the cabin.
Semira heard a puff, then something hit her in the neck, sending her flying onto her back. A strange wooziness overcame her. "I can't breathe. I can't..."
She felt herself slipping away as dark forms gathered over her. The forms picked her up and carried her away.
CHAPTER 25
AEMON
After the high commander had seen what he needed to see, he left Aemon, Imogen and her children in the care of Captain Royce and Captain Harven—who insisted on being called One Eye. Each brought with them a dozen soldiers as an honor guard for Ibilirith's children. One Eye's men—and one woman—were a rough-looking bunch, mostly criminals forced to join the army.
From the surly ex-sailor turned pirate to the thrice-accused pickpocket who stood no taller than Aemon and yet had the voice of someone twice his size, and the woman who had bitten a man's nose off for beating her in a game of dice. Each had their own sordid history to tell, and as the group made their way toward the temple, they were more than willing to share every gross detail of it with Aemon.
"And, aye, after he went down, the second guy came at me," one of Captain Harven's soldiers—a man whose name Aemon had forgotten already—said as he helped Aemon limp along. "Do you know what I done did to him?"
"Bored him to death?" Aemon wished the other man would go away.
"No." The soldier grinned, showing broken yellow teeth. "Wait for it... wait for it." The man raised his arms, expecting his audience—just Aemon—to be hanging off his every word. Then he brought them down. "I turned me back on him and walked away."
"What? Is that it?"
The soldier scratched his pockmarked cheek. "Did I not mention how big he was and that he carried a bloody huge two-handed sword?"
"You said he had a knife."
"No... that was the other guy."
"No, you said—" Aemon rolled his eyes. "You know what? How about we walk in silence? We are near one of the most holy places in the caverns." He glanced at Imogen, who walked some distance behind them. "Pay your respects to blessed Lady Ibilirith by praying to her silently in your head."
"Why bother?" The soldier chuckled. "She don't listen to scum like me."
"Try it anyway; you never know."
The man on the other side of Aemon suddenly grabbed his arm and started sniffing it. Aemon pulled it free. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, don't worry about him none," the soldier said. "He just likes the taste of human meat, he does. I think dat makes him a cana-anabul or whatever that word is. You know the one."
"What?" Aemon recoiled, almost knocking his guide to the ground. The cannibal opened his mouth wide, showing big white teeth with bits of meat stuck between them.
The soldier bellowed with laughter. "He's known as Sisterman. Nice guy, at least when he's not hungry."
Sisterman sniffed the air like a hungry dog. Aemon swallowed. "Why is he called—"
"Sisterman? Well, that's a long story. It all began when he got hungry one day and... you know?"
"Know what?"
The man glanced down. "We think he just got real hungry like, and hacked it off. It plopped around on the ground and he picked it up, and munched on it like it twas a chewy swine sausage."
Aemon glanced at Sisterman, who still sniffed the air. The cannibal grinned back at him. Shuddering, Aemon quickly looked away. "I cannot believe he would do that to himself. How does he, well, go to the latrine?"
"Latrine?" The soldier raised his eyebrows. "What are you on about?" Then he grinned. "Oh, what dirty minds you nobles have. You thought I meant he cut off his little stalagmite, didn't you?"
"Well, you said—"
"I never said that. He cut off his left big toe and ate it. That's what I meant."
Aemon was losing patience with this dimwit, and he didn't even know what a dimwit was! "Then why is he called Sisterman?"
"As I said, it's a long story, and it begins—"
Just kill me now.
Indalius must have seen Aemon's plight, for he came over and said, "Leave us, human. I will take the injured man."
The soldier almost dropped Aemon in his haste to get away.
Aemon looked up at Indalius as he put an arm around his waist. The machine-man seemed almost pensive. If it was possible for him to be pensive. Aemon felt a strange kinship with him. Both of them were completely under the sway of Imogen—Indalius controlled by the genkey, Aemon through the threat of pain and mass murder. What an unlikely pair they made. One a former banker and pampered noble. The other... a what?
It took Aemon a moment to work up the courage to ask. "Who were you, Indalius? I mean, before you became what you are now."
The machine-man did not speak for a time. Then he touched the sword hilt attached to
his right leg. "I was a warrior."
"You said you served under someone called Lyndon."
"Yes. I fought under him in the Great Wars against Imogen's Firstborn. We won victory after victory and General Lyndon became a hero... a legend. Then he fell in battle and those that replaced him were not able to live up to his legacy, and the war quickly turned against us."
They passed the place where Aemon and Kara had met Meglen all those months ago. How different things had been back then.
"I served my people in the devastating engagements leading up to the end," Indalius said. "But nothing we did could stop the Firstborn from seizing our world from us." His red eyes dimmed. "Then the darkness came, water turned to ice and the air froze in our lungs. We retreated underground with those who called themselves the elite, along with the people that served them."
Aemon was fascinated, learning history long forgotten in Stelemia. "Then what happened?"
"We planned ways to retake the surface but all of them failed. The elites continued to send us up there in power armor designed to withstand the intense cold. Again and again we went, dying by the score, until there were scant few of my comrades left." He lowered his head. "In the end, the few of us who remained, each sworn to the warrior code, refused our suicidal orders. Not because we feared death, but because we knew if the Firstborn ever found Annbar, we would be the only ones able to defend it. Humanity had dwindled to almost nothing, and the elites continued to throw lives away needlessly... just as they always had."
They sounded like the elites of Stelemia. Nothing had changed, it seemed. Perhaps humanity had always been ruled by self-serving monsters with noble names and armies at their beck and call.
"Then Imogen made a breakthrough. She created her Secondborn, using one of her sycophantic lovers as the prototype. A man named Ardamus." Indalius gripped his sword hilt, as if he meant to draw it. "After that, her harvesters came and tore people apart, limb from limb, to use in her machines. Of my brothers, Mordahi fell first, then Timon, Arngore, Zenophon, Julius... and the rest, whose names I no longer recall."
The Lost Sun Series Box Set 1: Books 1 and 2 (Lost Sun Box Set) Page 62