Before he knew what he was doing, he was turning to run back the way they'd come. Erinie was beside him, her scream drowned out by that of the creatures behind them. They almost ran into Sanya. The flower-man blocked the exit, his face contorted in horror, his body frozen in place. Minard tried to push past him, but his vine-limbs had latched onto a stalagmite and would not let go.
Then a grim voice spoke from behind them. Slow, sinister and cold. "No flee. We empty."
Minard realized Sanya wasn't going to get out of the way, so he spun to face the speaker. Erinie turned too, her scream fading to nothing. Before them stood more than a dozen figures. Their features were darkened as they remained at the edge of the light. Then the largest figure stepped into the torchlight and Minard tightened his grip on the gun, his guts turning to lead.
Rotmen.
Scampering feet and low moans came from several adjoining passages as more rotmen spilled into the chamber. Sanya finally moved out of the entrance and scampered away. Eyes glittered from behind him as more monsters came up from where Minard and the other two had entered. Erinie grabbed him and pulled him toward the last remaining passage not blocked by the enemy. They were almost there, when two of the rotmen blocked their path.
The same cold voice spoke again in a deep drawl. "No escape."
Every exit now blocked, their only option was to stand and fight.
CHAPTER 27
AEMON
"What is the meaning of this?" Imogen hissed, keeping her distance from the man-thing that approached her. "Stay back."
Indalius and two of his comrades rushed to stand beside her, igniting their burning blades. Asura flapped her wings, snapped her beak and squawked.
The man-thing stopped. "My love, do you not recognize me? I am Radashan, known in Great Stelemia as the Founder."
Aemon's world spun in circles. Had he just said his name was Radashan?
Only his face was visible, and it looked like that of a gray-bearded old man. But something was odd about it. His skin had a strange gleam to it, as if it were not made of flesh, but of something much harder that reflected the fiery glow of the lava.
Could it be metal?
The man calling himself Radashan raised his arms to placate Imogen. He leaned forward and began whispering to her. Aemon inched closer to hear what he said. "I will not tell you what to do, my love, for I know it will only anger you if I did. But please, I implore you to listen to me now. I can deliver this temple to you, and all the souls in it, if you play along with my ruse."
Imogen scowled at him, her hands clutching the genkey like claws. "You betrayed me. You killed me. You helped my brother."
"I know, my love, you can punish me later. But for now, please listen, I beg you. They believe you are the lady of the sacred lights, the one they call Holy Ibilirith."
Imogen's face went through a dozen different expressions before it settled on a calculating grin. She breathed deeply through her nose and seemed to relax. "Then I shall introduce myself to them. Bring their leader to me."
Radashan bowed, then turned to the prostrated patriarch. "Arise, child Lucien, for Lady Ibilirith has returned from the Blessed Realm of Heaven and braved the descent to this sacred place to speak with her most loyal son."
What nonsense is this? Aemon could not believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe anyone in the Order was taking it seriously. Surely, once Lucien saw Imogen, he would instantly recognize her and call for the Inquisitors.
The patriarch rose, dusted off his fine robes, then reverently started toward Imogen. He kept his face lowered, as if waiting for her permission to behold her earthly flesh with his mortal eyes.
Imogen motioned her Secondborn to stand down and move aside so Lucien could approach her. Asura took flight and landed on Indalius's shoulder to watch.
The patriarch stopped several feet in front of Imogen and went down to one knee and lowered his head. "I am unworthy to stand before you, oh blessed Divine Ibilirith. But may this unworthy mortal deem to look upon your holy face? For I and my forebears have longed to gaze upon it."
Imogen put on a regal, almost serene expression that made Aemon want to wretch. You are a fraud, Imogen. Once Lucien sees who you are, your charade will be over.
"You may, oh noble child. My beauty and grace are heaven sent, for I have dwelled among the unbeheld in heaven and been blessed by them."
Aemon had no idea what she was talking about and wondered if she even knew, but Lucien seemed to hang off her every word. His face slowly rose, tears streaming from his eyes. As he beheld her, he began mewling like a newborn. "Oh, Lady Ibilirith." He trembled. "Lady..."
Imogen ran her fingers over his cheek, wiping away his tears. "Am I not the most beautiful thing in existence? Am I not the most wondrous thing you have ever seen? Tell me I am, sweet child, tell me."
"Oh, yes, great Lady Ibilirith. Nothing is as beautiful, graceful and glorious as you."
Royce and One Eye fell to their knees, their soldiers falling with them.
No... Aemon clasped his head between his hands. How can Lucien not see her for what she really is? The one he believed to be the Scion of the Prophecy? What is happening? Has everyone gone insane?
"I most humbly thank you for returning to us in our time of need," Lucien said, trapped in Imogen's gaze. "We have long served Stelemia in your blessed name, knowing you would one day return to us, and raise our dead and heal our sick and wounded to serve you once more."
The conviction in his voice seemed to please Imogen, for she leaned down and kissed him on his lips. Aemon looked out over the lava. He could not watch that kiss or the unimaginable foolishness of it all. Before he knew it, he was at the edge of the precipice. One more step, and it would be over.
A hand dragged him back. "No. That is not the way."
Aemon spun to face Indalius. "Let me go."
"No." The machine-man whirred. "Do not give up."
Imogen broke her kiss with Lucien. Aemon glared up at the machine. "Why do you care what I do?"
"There is honor in you. Do not give up. I cannot say more with the restraint keeping me enthralled to Mother."
"You mean the genkey?"
"Yes."
Aemon's heart leapt into his throat. "What if I take it from her? What if—"
Indalius placed a hand over Aemon's mouth. "Silence. I can say no more."
Nodding, Aemon backed away and watched Imogen and the others. Perhaps there was something to his plan. If he found a way to remove the genkey, it would loosen or break Imogen's grip over her children. Removing the genkey could incapacitate her, like what had happened to Kara when she'd lost contact with it back in Radashan Crevice.
He would have to find a way to get hold of it without giving Imogen a chance to stop him. But how?
Radashan watched her speak to Lucien with such intensity, it was as if nothing else existed in the world. Aemon could not explain how the Founder had come to be here—if it was him at all.
Legend had it Radashan founded the pantheon of the divines. It was also said he created Stelemia, he was the first servant of Ibilirith and that when he died he turned into the Obelisk of Light that loomed still over the city of Crystal Cove.
How had Radashan convinced Lucien he truly was the founder? How had he convinced the Order that Imogen was Divine Ibilirith?
The answer was simple, for Aemon had said it himself, weeks ago. The Order were fanatics.
Imogen took Lucien's hand. "Lead me into my temple, my loyal son. I shall have need of my armor for the war to come."
Lucien led her toward the bridge. "Then you have returned to lead our fight against the Ancient Enemy and those that serve your brother?"
"Indeed," Imogen replied, motioning her retinue of machines to follow. She glanced at Aemon and blew him a kiss. He refused to look at her and slowly followed them onto the bridge. Radashan called for the monks still prostrating themselves at Imogen's feet to rise, and to form an honor guard for their Divine Lady.
Aemon felt a chill down his spine but was uncertain as to why. "How do you know me?"
"I know a great many things about all that transpires here in Stelemia, because I own much of it through proxy. You yourself have worked to further my cause and enrich me."
"What do you mean?" Radashan turned to him, and for the first time Aemon got a good look at his face and was horrified by what he saw. He backed away, inches from the ledge. "What are you?"
The Founder let out what might have passed for laughter. "I am the hidden power behind the Priest King's throne. I am the one who dwells beyond the door in the old tales. I am the heart of Stelemia."
With that, he raced after Imogen, singing Ibilirith's name in a musical voice. The monks picked up the tune, their voices echoing off the stone walls of the temple.
THEY WERE LED INTO the secret passage, which ran to the grotto containing the Tomb of Ibilirith. Indalius, his brother warriors and the harvesters remained back in the Machine Chapel with a congregation of monks, whose elated chanting followed Aemon down the passage. "Oh, Mother Ibilirith, power us, fuel us, set us upon our sacred tasks. Let us be spinning cogs in your great machines."
What blind fanatics. Have they lost all sense of reason? Aemon sucked on his lower lip. Many in the Order had recognized Imogen, knew her to be Kara, and yet they bowed before her, never questioning, never asking, never thinking they were being misled. Imogen was the Scion of their Prophecy—of that, Aemon was certain. Yet they stood there, those that believed the old files, thought them sacred, and accepted her as their Divine Mother.
Radashan walked in front of Aemon, his metal feet clanking on the ground with every step. How could this man-thing, this... metal man... convince the Order of such folly? Aemon had not believed him when he'd claimed to be the power behind the veil. The real power in the caverns were the secret owners of the bank.
He almost choked. Rubin knew who owned the bank, but did anyone else? Could it be possible Radashan was one of these secret owners, or even the sole owner of the bank? How else could one wield such great power without showing their face?
Maybe that was how he knew Aemon.
But to have survived who knew how many years, encased in metal, and not have anyone know you were alive. How had the Founder pulled it off? Where had he been all this time?
So many questions flew around Aemon's mind, and he might never have them answered. All he knew was Radashan's face was a thing best left in the darkness of a nightmare. It had been nothing more than a metallic layer of human skin, draped over a hideous solid silver skull with two bulb-like yellow eyes. Back in Annbar, Imogen had said Radashan was dead.
Did that mean he was not one of her Secondborn? Did the genkey have any power over him?
They arrived at the grotto and beheld the hieroglyph-covered walls, the offering-cluttered floor and the stairs that led up to the tomb.
Imogen sauntered toward the stairs. "It is not every day one gets to stand before the doors of their own tomb." Asura squawked at the fearsome bird emblazoned on the door. "Yes, my darling little pet. It looks like you."
Lucien hurried to get in front of her, then got to his knees. "Lady Ibilirith, we have preserved your holy remains and your armor for this very day. You will be most pleased by your loyal servants and their diligent work."
"I suppose I will," she replied. Then her eyes fell on something on the stairs. "What is that thing doing here?" She pointed an accusing finger at the head of a metal man. Asura flew down and pecked at it, denting the metal. "Get rid of it. It belonged to one of the enemies that now ravage your homes."
Lucien fell onto his belly. "We are most sorry to displease you, my lady. We did not know the head would bring offense to your Divine Holiness. It has been here for many years, long before any of us living here at the temple took our first breaths."
Radashan went over and picked it up, Asura still flapping around trying to attack it. Imogen called her bird, and it instantly returned to her.
"Someone must have brought this back with them when I led an expedition to Annbar in search of your remains," the Founder said. "This thing was the messenger you dismantled—"
Imogen put her hands on her hips. "I know who it belonged to. Throw it into the lava outside and let it be gone forever."
The founder passed it to one of the monks that had accompanied them as an honor guard. "You heard our Lady." The monk nodded, took the head, and raced toward the Machine Chapel.
Aemon went to stand at the bottom step as Imogen removed the genkey from around her neck and placed it into the slot beside the entrance to the tomb. A tremor ran through the ground as the eyes of the emblazoned bird began to glow like fire. The door split in two, and each side slid into the wall.
When it had completely opened, Aemon went up the stairs to see what was inside. Sacred lights flickered to life in the dark room beyond the threshold, revealing a burial chamber containing a huge sarcophagus, perfectly carved from white marble. Strange symbols were carved into its sides. They reminded him of writing on the walls in Annbar.
Asura flew inside and landed on an empty sconce and waited. Imogen slowly entered the tomb, her eyes gleaming with the fel light of the genkey. Lucien clambered back to his feet and motioned some of the monks to follow her inside. Two went to walk on either side of her.
When Imogen reached the sarcophagus, she commanded they open it. Grasping the lid, the monks slid it off and carefully lowered it to the floor. Aemon went to the door and stood beside Radashan. The Founder was so intent on Imogen, he did not seem to notice Aemon there. Lucien watched her just as closely, mouthing what might have been a prayer.
Imogen peered into the sarcophagus. "My armor. At long last."
She withdrew a white helmet, with dark circles for eyes. When she held it up, something dropped out and landed at her feet. Aemon grimaced. It was a mummified female head, with matted brittle hair and empty eye sockets. Imogen stared down at it, her face showing no expression.
Then, sneering, she kicked the head and it flew toward Lucien. The patriarch dove out of the way with a wail of terror. The head rolled down the stairs and hit the far wall, where it burst apart with a sickening splat.
"What are you doing?" the patriarch cried, mouth agape. Radashan motioned for him to be silent and Lucien dutifully obeyed. But his face glistened with sweat and his hands were gripped around the cog at his neck.
Was he finally starting to realize Imogen was not who he thought her to be? Would he finally call for the Inquisitors? Aemon would not hold his breath.
Imogen held up a glove and shook it until a mummified hand fell out. "The ancient flesh comes apart easily." She kicked the desiccated hand against the rear wall of the tomb. Putting the armor pieces down, she removed others and disposed of the body parts with the same grace as the first two.
With each transgression against what the Order believed to be the holy remains of Ibilirith, the monks and the patriarch seemed to grow more agitated. Finally, Lucien could take it no longer. "My Lady—" the patriarch began, but the look she gave him withered the words in his throat.
"Know this, my faithful servants. Flesh is transitory in the end." Imogen held the genkey high, drenching her tomb in fel light. "One day, the flesh I currently wear will be of no use to me. Then I will discard it, like I discarded the one rotting here." She put on a glove. "The future of humanity lies not within flesh, but within metal."
CHAPTER 28
SEMIRA
Lost Sun help me, the pain. Semira threw open her eyes and screamed as daggers shot through them and into her brain. Closing them, she wailed, "My eyes, my eyes." Her arms were on fire. "Lost Sun... please."
Searing heat washed over her. Had she been tossed into a burning pyre? I'm burning. I can't see. Her mind was in a panic. Wrynric, help me. Help me!
&nbs
p; She writhed as her flesh seared from bone, her meager body fat popping and spitting. Her screams went on until she ran out of breath. Let me die. I want to die. Why won't I die?
Then the pain was gone and the light dimmed.
Sucking in air, Semira lay still for a long time, expecting the pain to return at any moment. It didn't, and she cautiously opened her eyes to slits. A bright light shone, but it no longer hurt like it had before. She peered at her hands, expecting horrific burns and blackened bone. But they were normal. Completely normal.
What was happening? She got to her feet, glanced around, and saw little but clear blue sky and the bright-yellow Lost Sun high overhead. Heat rose from the concrete ground beneath her feet and sweat beaded on her forehead. Semira frowned. She appeared to be standing on top of a building, with the roofs of other buildings close by. Moving to the short wall at the edge, she gazed out at the city around her.
It seemed to be the same city she had woken up in, for she recognized a few of the bigger buildings. But where had the snow gone? The frozen streets? The deathly silence?
This city still lived.
She could hear it, smell it and taste it. Hundreds of people walked along the sides of the streets where objects of varying sizes and colors moved in neat rows, one after the other.
Jerking away, she fell to the ground and began convulsing as hundreds, then thousands, of images flashed before her eyes. Her mind was buffeted by strange sights, sounds, people and smells. They came and went so quickly, she wasn't able to make out what they were. It became overwhelming and she tried to scream, but found she couldn't open her mouth.
Help me. She could see the Lost Sun still peeking out from behind a white cloud. Help me!
Then it was over and she rolled onto her side, breathing hard, trying not to vomit. What had just happened?
Slowly standing, she staggered over to the wall. What is this place? Why am I here? Am I dead?
The Lost Sun Series Box Set 1: Books 1 and 2 (Lost Sun Box Set) Page 64