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

by Riley Morrison

  "Once I underwent the process to transcend my flesh to this metal shell, I unlocked the secret to long life. But the cost has been dear." Radashan rubbed his shoulder again. "The pain, the anguish, the toll. Without my unwavering love for Imogen and my certainty she would return, I could not have endured this torment for as long as I have. Now that I have pleased her, she has said she will help me and end my suffering. She will love me like she used to."

  That last bit sounded delusional. Who in their right mind would give up their humanity to live forever encased in metal, and in great physical and mental anguish? Aemon almost felt sorry for the Founder. "How will she end your suffering?"

  "I am not sure. She only said when we leave the temple, helping me would be the first thing she would do."

  Aemon doubted that. Imogen did not seem the forgiving type. "Why were you so certain she would return?"

  "My faith in the One God. Also, I founded a covenant of scions out in the Great Dark who would become a host for her once she found a way to return. During my brief stay in Annbar, as I retrieved Imogen's remains, I spoke with Ahnna, the being at the center of the World Simulator and the arbiter of the transference. She promised me she would transfer Imogen to a host scion when the time was right and that I only had to wait for Imogen to awaken."

  He sighed. "And so I have."

  Neither Wrynric nor Erinie had ever said anything about who had founded the Covenant of the Lost Sun. Did they know? Or had the history of their founding been lost to time?

  Something occurred to Aemon. "What of the Prophecy of Ibilirith? Who wrote it?"

  Radashan's foot began to tap again. "In truth, I do not know, but I have my suspicions. It was not part of the Order's beliefs until long after I had stepped down as patriarch."

  "Was it Dwaycar?"

  "No, he was dead. Perhaps it was a follower of his who infiltrated the Order, or perhaps..." His foot tapped incessantly. "There was one who came with me to that other city in the Great Dark. Together we transcended our flesh." Radashan licked his metal lips. "Her heart was mine, but I could never return her love, for my own belonged to Imogen. Even now, this woman longs for me. Enduring her torments as I have, wishing for release."

  "Who is she? Why do you think she wrote the prophecy?"

  "I will not tell you who she is, but know that this woman has long tried to poison me against Imogen, even when we walked as mortals."

  He sighed. "Now, Aemon, you have heard my tale and must see why I want you to leave. I have endured great torments, eons of guilt and endless waiting. I deserve to be with Imogen." He stopped tapping his foot and leaned close. Too close. "I belong to her, and she belongs to me. Leave here, let us be together like we were meant to be. Save your soul, and think not of transcending yourself as I have done."

  Aemon recoiled from that face. The globed eyes, feverishly alight. What could he say? What should he do? Is Radashan so insane he thinks Imogen will let me leave? Aemon did not want to go anyway. Imogen had to be stopped. I do not care if it costs me my life; I will find a way to stop her.

  "Leave," Radashan insisted. "There is no place for you here. I have left you a pouch of coins on your bed. Take them, go to Gravelbank Bridge and disappear in the teeming crowds."

  "I will not go." Aemon sat upright. "My place is here."

  The Founder stared at him, his shiny metallic teeth bared. Aemon said nothing more, and waited for Radashan's next move. Will he attack me?

  Then a commotion near the entrance to the Hall of Records distracted them. Aemon glanced over, relieved something had broken the tension. Imogen strode through the door, Indalius and one of his brother machines walking before her. Radashan stood and lowered his head. Grimacing, Aemon got up and waited.

  Imogen shoved past the two machine-men and rushed over to them. Hands on hips, she glared at them both. "What are you two speaking about? Are you plotting to kill me?"

  Radashan fell to his knees. "No, my love, never."

  Aemon swallowed his fear. "We were discussing the founding of Stelemia. I love history, and Radashan is a wealth of it. Did you know he was there when this temple was built?"

  Imogen continued to glare at him, and he noticed one of her hands quivering. Was she afraid? Or was this a sign she was holding back great anger?

  Eventually, she lowered her arms and motioned Aemon over. Reluctantly, he went to her, expecting her to hurt him again. Instead, she took him by the arm and led him to the door. "Don't speak to him. He will fill your ears with lies."

  He did not turn around to see if Radashan watched them leave, but he imagined the metal-man's eyes burning bright with jealousy. But what could Aemon do? Imogen did what she wanted with them, and they were both powerless to stop her.

  Now Aemon knew her weakness. The genkey. All he had to do was find a way to steal it. Provided one of Rubin's assassins did not get him first...

  THE NEXT DAY, INDALIUS strode into Imogen's room. "Mother, your harvesters have finished scouring the catacombs for usable organic material, but their specimen containers remain almost empty."

  Aemon waited for her angry outburst. No doubt she would do something terrible. She always did.

  Imogen had made him stand beside her all morning in the room she had taken as her own. After she had found him talking to Radashan, she claimed to no longer trust him and would keep him close to make sure he was not up to anything. Aemon could not blame her. She had every reason to be paranoid. I hate you, Imogen. I will find a way to stop you.

  Sitting in a large metal chair, fingering her genkey, she stared into the distance, as if she had not heard the report. Radashan watched her closely. He had been told to stand in the corner of the room, well away from Imogen. She seemed to despise him, and made it clear every time she spoke to him.

  Yet the ancient being did not seem to see it. He doted on her, standing there willingly until she called upon him. Aemon felt sorry for the metal man. The Founder had given Imogen much, including the Temple of Sacred Lights and many of the people in it, and yet she had never thanked him, nor shown a shred of gratitude.

  Always, Imogen seemed to want more. From Radashan, from her Secondborn, from the Order of Ibilirith and from Aemon. None of them could please her long—not that Aemon wanted to. All I want is for her to die.

  Finally, she slammed her fist on the table, making the plates of food she had not gotten around to eating rattle. "Then bring my harvesters out of those dismal tunnels and place them in the grotto outside my tomb. I will have need of them again shortly."

  Indalius's eyes flashed as he lingered just inside the door. Would he refuse his order? Aemon bit his lip, waiting for the inevitable confrontation. A long moment went by, then the machine-man turned and strode down the corridor, the heavy clank of his feet fading into the distance. Strangely, she had not seemed to notice what Indalius did, nor did Radashan. All he had eyes for was his beloved Imogen.

  Suddenly, she reached out, grabbed Aemon and pulled him to her. He grunted as pain shot up his injured leg. Radashan's eyes went to him now, the bulbs glowing feverishly bright. Aemon could imagine the jealousy the other man must be feeling. I would give you her heart if I could, for I do not want it.

  "You will be by my side for this," Imogen said, looking up at him and using Kara's radiant smile that now haunted him in his dreams. "I want you to see the glorious deliverance awaiting those who have remained loyal to my legacy all these years."

  Aemon's chest tightened, and he found it hard to breathe. "What—what are you going to do?"

  "Radashan told me their beliefs. Their bodies are but engines in service of Ibilirith, and now she has need of them."

  CHAPTER 33

  MINARD

  It took another three days for them to finally reach an area Erinie claimed to know. "This passage is one of the main thoroughfares of the Nether. From this path, we can go to Sunholm and several of the larger settlements of exiles."

  Minard glanced up and down the passage. It looked almost like any ot
her, except for the burned-out torches and discarded trash that lay strewn out along it. "Exiles," Minard said. "You mean castouts from Stelemia, don't you?"

  She smirked. "Yes, and you want to hope we don't run into any. You carry the trappings of a servant of Ibilirith and it was in her name many of the exiles were banished out here."

  Minard thought of all the things the heretics might do to him if they caught him. No doubt, his death would be slow and painful. He grinned. "Well, let's try not to run into any. I've been through too much to end my days at the hands of a vengeful heretic."

  "Exiles aren't what I'm most worried about." Erinie glanced around. "The bone-people were encroaching upon our sphere of influence before Sunholm fell. They might still—"

  She fell silent as Sanya's petals started opening and closing. Then the flower-man whispered something.

  They didn't need to ask what had startled their companion, for in the distance they heard voices. Erinie quickly led them down the passage, away from the sound. "We stick to this path for several miles, then we head off and go to the rear entry into Sunholm. Keep your eyes and ears open."

  The voices followed them for a time, then faded away. Minard had never been able to work out how close the voices were, as sounds carried far in the silent and open passages.

  They reached a junction, and Erinie took a smaller passage set among a garden of stalagmites. "This will take us to Sunholm," Erinie said as she entered. "There will be a hidden door only those of my covenant can open." Her voice had become taut.

  She said nothing more as they passed through tight passages, climbed steep slopes and then walked along a narrow shelf running along the side of a chasm. Eventually, they reached a dead end.

  Without a word, Erinie ran her hand along the shaft of a stalactite. She pushed something and Minard jumped as a loud crack split the air. The ground shuddered as the rock blocking the passage began to rise off the ground. He widened his eyes. "That rock must weigh—"

  "Tons," Erinie said. "Our ancestors still possessed some of the technologies of the old world. We don't know how they made this gate, but we thank them for it. Those of us who escaped the slaughter fled through here."

  Minard could tell Erinie was thinking of the past. Probably of Wrynric, her brethren she'd left behind at Safehold and all those who had fallen at Sunholm. Her face had become ashen, her eyes shadowed. He moved to comfort her, but she glared at him and he stopped. Perhaps he didn't have a right to comfort her. Not here.

  He'd called her people heathens and heretics and—though it made him now feel guilty—he had looked down on them all for having been born outside the radiant glow of the sacred lights.

  The door slid to a stop and Erinie led them inside. Sanya glanced at Minard before following her in.

  As Minard entered the passage, he considered what the flower-man might be thinking. Did he know what was happening? Did he even care where they were going? Minard had continued to keep an eye on their strange companion on the journey. He'd half expected Sanya to have turned on them by now. After all, the flower-man traveled with the people who had brought an end to his people. Erinie's fire had burned them all, consuming Sanya's home in flame.

  Why had he not tried to seek revenge? Why had he continued to follow them? Was his mind so different from a human that he did not think in terms of retribution or murder?

  If only I could speak to him. Perhaps when they returned to Stelemia with the surviving records of Sunholm, the acolytes who understand the ancient language of Ibilirith would be able to discern what Sanya wanted.

  Erinie stopped at the bottom of a flight of stairs and lowered her face. "The repository..." She took a deep breath. "Is at the top of these steps."

  Minard came up beside her. He had expected her to be crying, and yet her eyes were dry. But her hands were shaking, and her jaw was set. When he went to put an arm around her, she moved away.

  Heart aching, he lowered his arm and watched her walk up the stairs, Sanya close behind. I'm sorry. For everything.

  The torchlight began to fade, so Minard raced to catch up. She took every step in a measured stride, her eyes raised to the darkness beyond the glow of the torchlight. From that darkness would soon come the ruins of her home. The bodies of the dead.

  As she stumbled, Minard grabbed her and pulled her to him. To his surprise, Erinie didn't fight. It was as if she was in a trance. She still stared ahead, unblinking. No tears, no expression at all.

  "Let me go first," he said. "We don't know what's up there."

  Erinie blinked, then half turned to him. "No. These are my kin and their spirits still linger here. Until I put them at ease, they will not tolerate the presence of outsiders."

  Her people truly believed in ghosts? Once he would have mocked such beliefs, but now the idea of doing so didn't sit well with him. Being away from the temple so long, and the endless sermons, had begun to change his perspectives on things. Plus, holding a woman he once would have condemned as vile scum from the Great Dark didn't hurt either. A woman's kiss and gentle embrace could quench the fires raging in any man's heart. Especially a woman as beautiful as Erinie. I love you. You're the best thing in my life since I came to Ibilirith.

  Minard held her as they continued up the stairs together.

  When they reached the top, they found themselves at another closed door. Erinie pressed a hidden button and it rose quickly. Sanya peered through the doorway, then said something under his breath and backed away a step. The flower-man would go no further.

  Minard followed Erinie though the door and found himself in a great hall filled with scorched books, blackened walls and ruined computers. They were on an upper floor, overlooking a dark, shrouded lower level. Until she carried the torch deeper into the room, it was impossible to tell what was below them.

  Erinie seemed to see none of these things. Her eyes were on the two tattered skeletons resting nearby. She pushed him back toward the entry. "Wait here." Her voice came so softly, he almost didn't hear her.

  "Who were they?" he asked before he could stop himself.

  She took a moment to answer. "Arden and Liana."

  Arden. The scion's father, and the man who had started everything.

  When Erinie turned back to him, her tears had finally come. "Let me put their spirits at ease, then I will gather their medallions." She sobbed. "Once they are placed in the Solarium Sump, we can take what records we can from here and bring them to your Order. Let us find a way to save our people."

  He thought of all those who had died here, died at Celestial Rest and Deep Cave. Then he thought of all of his brethren who had fought to protect the temple when the Knives of Dwaycar had attacked.

  So many dead. So many more yet to die.

  Minard made a fist. "And then we avenge the dead."

  CHAPTER 34

  AEMON

  Aemon stood beside Imogen at the dais of the Machine Chapel, overlooking the gathering of over two hundred brethren of the Order. Lucien knelt at the base of the steps leading up to it, locked in the same religious fervor as the rest of his kind.

  The bright sacred lights on the roof and walls bathed Imogen in pure white light. She wore a long, flowing white gown laced with golden embroidery. If Aemon did not detest her very being, he might have allowed himself to entertain the notion he stood beside a goddess.

  But he knew the truth. Imogen was as far from divinity as a blind fish.

  She took a deep breath and continued speaking her lies to the fanatics of the Order. "My brother, Dwaycar, woke the Ancient Enemy from the ageless slumber we imposed upon them. He is to blame for the destruction of your cities, my sacred lights and of the desecration of life. Lydan the Shield and Roryur the Healer gave me the blessing to return to this mortal realm and deliver it from the heathens."

  This make-believe proclamation was followed by chanting and hands raised to the sacred lights overhead. "Oh, Mother Ibilirith, power us, fuel us, set us upon our sacred tasks. Let us be spinning cogs in your grea
t machines. Bless us for our faithfulness, our diligence to our humble duties and our eternal war against the darkness, for we live out our lives under the pure radiance of your sacred lights."

  They profess their devotion to Ibilirith, yet they discount her prophecy. The scion stands before them and they are too blind to see it. Fools.

  Aemon knew what was coming. And I am powerless to stop it.

  "But though I am a divine, I cannot fight this war alone." Imogen raised her hands and face up to the blinding lights overhead. Asura flew off her shoulder and perched on the edge of the dais to watch. "I have need of my loyal servants, those who have long awaited my return. For your love, faith and unwavering devotion—I shall grant you all eternal life!"

  As one, the crowd moaned in religious ecstasy. Imogen seemed to be enjoying their praise, for her face was radiant, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. Her body quivered as their chanting grew and her eyelids fluttered. "You will transcend your weak flesh and become eternal. You will be more than the sacred machines you worship. Your beautiful, loyal souls will become one with them, and serve me as I deliver humanity from the evils born of the past."

  The secret door behind Aemon opened and Indalius strode out. He glanced at Aemon, his face unreadable metal. Radashan nodded to the Secondborn commander, who nodded back. Then Indalius went and stood beside Aemon and gazed out over the crowd.

  Aemon wanted to risk asking the machine what he was doing there, but he got his answer before he could open his mouth.

  From the tunnel leading to the Tomb of Ibilirith spilled the harvesters Imogen had brought with her when Royce had escorted them from Ebon Shelf. On their backs, their specimen containers contained a few rotten limbs, a couple of heads and other indeterminate fleshy objects. Items they had scrounged out of the catacombs.

  The harvesters walked around the outside of the room until they stood in front of the exit. Indalius lifted the hilt of his sword, but did not let loose the blade. The sacred lights dimmed, the room now filled with the fel red glow of the genkey.