Fall of a Lost Sun_The Prequel novella to the Lost Sun World

by Riley Morrison

  “You’ve been gone a month... was it worth it?” She asked, as he stopped before her.

  Arden put the item back in its case. “Our visiondreams never told us what it does, though I’m confident once we learn what it is, our journey will not have been for naught.”

  Semira wrapped her fingers around the stalagmite next to her and looked like she wanted to crush it with her bare hands. Her face twisted into a deeper frown than she normally wore. "What's with the frown?" He asked.

  She let go of the stalagmite. “I’m glad you’ve returned, Father.”

  He studied her a long moment, the dream of her murdering him still playing out in his mind. What is she planning? He gritted his teeth. She's my daughter. She loves me. She’s not planning anything.

  “I know you’re upset at me for not taking you. It’s dangerous heading so deep into the Nether, and I didn’t want to endanger both my girls.” He pulled away and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I must leave you now and meet with the librarians so they can study the artifact. We’ll talk later.”

  With that, he took the torch back from Liana and strode into Sunholm, dark fears and uncertainty weighing him down. He expected his return to be triumphant. The artifact was found, his people were saved.

  Instead, he felt more uncertainty, and a growing sense of approaching doom.

  CHAPTER 8

  The next day Arden and Liana stood beside Boran, the head librarian at the Repository, while Erinie watched on. "Do you see this?" The balding, elderly, man was saying, studying the strange writing over the artifact with a magnifying glass. "I have seen this word before in our ancient files. It belongs to one of the many languages spoken by our ancestors."

  "Do you know what it says?" Arden asked.

  The old man shook his head. "No, we’ve never been able to translate this language, but I know who might be able to.” Boran leaned back on his stool and gently placed the magnifying glass on the table. “You’re not going to like it though.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The Order of Ibilirith.”

  Arden blinked. “Why would they know?”

  “I believe the words are written in what the Stelemians call the ancient language of Ibilirith. From what I know, the Order have managed to translate some of the language. They might not be able to tell you exactly what it says, but they should be able to at least give you an idea.”

  Arden ground his teeth. Why couldn’t anything ever be easy? Why hadn’t the visiondream shown him what to do? “Asking the Order for help is out of the question.” They would purge every scion in Sunholm if they knew we were here. “Is there no other way?”

  Boran shook his head.

  "Then it doesn’t matter what it says. Let’s work out what the artifact is and how to use it."

  The old man turned it over in his hand, then ran its silver chain through his wrinkled fingers. "Perhaps you should try wearing it."

  Arden took the artifact from him and put it around his neck. He held his breath, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. He neither felt different nor did the artifact change in any way.

  Liana held out her hand. "Let me try."

  He took it off and gave it to her. She put it around her neck, and again, nothing happened. Arden wanted to kick something. "Well, perhaps it doesn’t work like this."

  Erinie walked over and lifted it from Liana’s neck. “Can I try?”

  Arden was about to remind her she wasn’t a scion, but she’d already slipped it around her neck. Just as he expected, nothing happened.

  She took it off. "I think we should try to put it around the neck of every scion in our community, and if you allow it, every non scion too." She shrugged. “What else can we do?"

  Arden had no answer for her. "Then let's do it. Bring them here in groups and give it a try."

  Five hours later, every scion, including the children and babies had the artifact put around their necks. None of them reported feeling any different, and nothing on the artifact seemed to change.

  Arden was growing increasingly agitated and the disquieting feeling he’d suffered since arriving back in Sunholm had grown. Had their journey been for nothing? Were people talking behind his back about his poor leadership? If they couldn’t work out how to use the artifact, were they doomed? Three people had died in the fighting with the bone-scum while they were away, and one of the mushroom patches was defiled.

  A group of scions were having a whispered conversation on the other side of the repository. The crotchety old woman, Ayra, was among them. She’d never been as fond of Arden as the rest of the community. He’d heard rumors that she’d been angry at her sons for having forgiven Arden for breaking the Covenant’s oath and refused to speak to either of them for years afterward.

  Was Ayra speaking ill of him? Several of the men in the group seemed to be doing most of the talking. Arden knew their names, for he had led them into battle. But if their faith in him was shaken? His heart thumped. Maybe they’re talking about supplanting me. What if...

  Arden growled and turned away to stare at one of the computers. They weren’t talking about him. They trusted him. They all did.

  "Are you alright?" Wrynric asked, placing a hand on Arden's shoulder.

  Arden lowered his head. His old friend would stand by him, not matter what. "I worry we went out there for nothing. What if we can’t—"

  "We will learn how to use it. Give it time."

  Sniffing, Arden turned to his old friend. "I have been growing uneasy. Ever since we returned home I haven’t been able to shake this feeling of impending doom. Last night, I went to bed hoping to be taken into a visiondream, but nothing came to me. Well, at least not..." He realized what he was about to say and fell silent.

  "Not what?" Wrynric looked concerned.

  Glancing away, Arden said, "Nothing important." Arden recalled the nightmare he’d had the night before. In it, Semira had driven a sword through him. He had woken up with a start, and laid there in the darkness for a long time. Then he’d gotten up and listened at Semira’s bedroom door and had heard nothing. Had she been in there sleeping? Or was she awake and aware he was outside her room?

  I’m ashamed to admit, I was too afraid to go in and check on her. She’s my daughter, and now I’ve come to be afraid of her because of a bad dream.

  All of a sudden, Arden felt an overwhelming need to be alone. He’d had enough. The journey for the artifact had been a waste of time, and now his people were going to lose all faith in him. His first born daughter hated him, and his wife was a miserable husk who had nothing good to say about anyone. And then there was the bone-scum...

  Could things be any worse?

  After ordering the librarians to keep searching for a way to activate the artifact, he hurried toward the repository’s front entrance. Wrynric called after him, but Arden ignored him.

  When he returned home he sat at the dinner table staring into the fire. Meridia was out with Liana at the market and would not return home for at least an hour. That gave him time to meditate and be alone.

  Little good it did him. He could not sit long, and began pacing back and forth. I failed. My people hate me. What do I do?

  When his wife and daughter returned, he glanced over at them. Both their faces paled. "What's wrong?" Liana asked.

  Meridia placed the box of food she’d bought at the market on the kitchen bench and walked over to him and began rubbing his aching shoulders. "Tell me, my love."

  Arden almost shuddered at her touch, so repulsive was it to him. His wife had not shown affection to him like this for a long time. Even still, he could not tell her the truth. What could I tell her anyway? That I’m afraid I’m a failure? That I fear my own daughter wants to kill me?

  He was about to open his mouth to tell them he was alright, when Semira came in from outside. They all looked at her and she froze in the doorway, as if caught in the act of doing something wrong. She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

  Meridia rounded on her.
"Where have you been? Skulking out in the dark again?"

  Semira gave her a withering glare and started toward her room. "Don't you walk away from me, you vile husk." Meridia went after her. "Come here. Now!"

  Arden got up and went after his wife. "Meridia, please. Just let her be."

  His wife rounded on him now. "How dare you go against me like this in front of my daughters. If you don't show me respect, why should they?"

  Now he had done it. This argument would go on for hours and the whole town would hear it. Liana made a swift retreat out the front door, probably going to the repository to be with Erinie. "Meridia, please..."

  Semira quickly followed Liana out, with a withering gaze at both her parents. Sighing, Arden took Meridia's hand and led her to what had once been their bedroom, but now only belonged to her. The room was at the back of the house, so he hoped when she started her screeching, her voice would not carry outside. It was bad enough his people were probably already questioning his leadership. He’d promised them hope, a weapon to use against the bone-scum, but all they got was a few more deaths, another destroyed plantation and nothing else.

  The last thing Arden needed right now was for them to hear Meridia raging at him.

  When he closed the door, she spun on him. "You leave me here to fend for myself with our insane daughter as my only company!" With every word shot from her mouth, her face became more and more twisted with rage. "You always leave me here. Had I known you would force me to live such a loveless, wretched existence, I'd have never married you." She spat at his feet.

  Sighing, he went over and tried to embrace her, doing his dutiful work as a husband trying to placate an angry wife. How he hated her, hated every part of her, never wanted to touch her again! The only way he could stomach being near her now was by imagining her to be Kristia.

  Meridia held him back and he didn’t fight it.

  "Did you even think of me out there?” She wiped spit from her mouth on the back of her hand. “Or were you thinking of—"

  "Don't go there. That part of my life is over. "Kristia I am sorry. "Of course I thought of you. Every time I sat down to rest, I prayed to the Lost Sun you were safe."

  She picked up the cup beside her bed and drank from it with a grimace. It smelled like cold shroom tea. "Look, Meridia, I didn't want to go out there in search of the artifact—but I had to. You know that."

  "And the stupid artifact you so lusted for, does nothing. Nothing!" She tossed the empty cup on the bedside bench with a loud clang. "Just like I told you it would."

  He turned away. "Meridia... Please. Let's not do this. Not now."

  Arden heard her walk up behind him, and he forced himself not to move away. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the back of the neck. "Make love to me, like we used to. I want to feel your arms around me and listen to you tell me how much you need me."

  “You want—?”

  She dug her nails into his arm. “Shut up, and do as I tell you. I want you now.”

  Why must you make me feel so wretched before you ask me to do this? Perhaps, like him, she had found her own way to tolerate his touch. He thought of Kristia, while she thought of him as the dirt beneath her heel.

  Swallowing, he turned and led his wife to their bed. She lay on her back waiting for him. He stared down at her. I will do my duty. She is a scion. This is our way.

  AFTER THEY WERE DONE, she rested her head on Arden’s chest and dozed. He closed his eyes, stroking her hair absently. Would they ever learn what the artifact was, or had it all been for nothing?

  Over the next day, those thoughts never left Arden. He went about the task of overseeing Sunholm's defenses, of checking in on the supply hold, the newly forged weapons, checking on Perren—who was at home recovering from his shoulder wound—and generally making his presence known to everyone. Arden’s people seemed to give him the same deference they always had, and he heard nor saw any sign they would cast him aside for another.

  Still, the feeling of impending doom lingered at the back of his thoughts. When he could take it no longer, he went to the repository to check on the progress with the artifact.

  The news was grim. The librarians had learned nothing. The artifact remained as dead as when Arden had found it.

  "Don't worry," Wrynric said, knowing how Arden felt. He always seemed to know." We’ll learn in time."

  Arden strode out of the repository, the old man hurrying after him. People went about with their daily business, many watching him expectantly. What did they want from him now? He wanted to scream at them. Stop looking at me like I have all the answers. I don't and never did.

  Then he took a deep breath and the rising panic eased. No one else could lead as well as he did. They could deal with the disappointment, as could he. The artifact might be a waste of time, but there was still a clan of bone-scum to fight.

  Arden decided to go to the Chapel of the Lost Sun and meditate. Perhaps then he could center himself and work out what his next step should be. The bone-people were growing in numbers, and there had been sightings of the Knives of Dwaycar in one of the distant tunnels at the edge of Sunholm’s borders. Their type were rarely seen out this way. Though the Covenant was on good terms with them, it made him uneasy they were skulking about. Especially when I can’t get a moment’s peace from this feeling of impending doom.

  "I need to spend some time in reflection," Arden said to his old friend.

  Wrynric stopped and studied him. There was worry in his weary eyes. He knew how much faith Arden had put in the visiondreams of the artifact. And now he knows my hopes have been crushed and that I’m second guessing myself. Sometimes, I wonder if he knows me better than my own family.

  "I'm alright." Arden turned toward the chapel. "Some time alone would do me good." It beat returning to Meridia or trying to find Semira. "Go see to the merchant caravan they are sending out tomorrow and ask them to trade for some more pelts. My wife and I need blankets, and I'm sure there are others who do too."

  It was a pointless errand, as the merchants knew full well what to trade for, but Wrynric dutifully obeyed. Like he always did.

  Arden watched him go. There was the best friend any man could hope for. A friend who would stick by your side, no matter how dark your journey, no matter the risk to their own life. Will your loyalty to me lead you to your end? Arden shuddered. For a fleeting moment, he had seen an image of Wrynric lying dead in a pool of blood. The image had come from the nightmare the night before.

  Spinning around, Arden hurried to the chapel. He threw open the door and basked in the warm light of the torches reflecting the golden globe at the center of the domed room. Here he could contemplate under the Light of the Lost Sun and seek the answers he needed.

  Kneeling under the globe, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. The chapel was so bright; he could see the light through his eyelids. Tell me what I must do, my Lost Sun. I need your guidance. I need hope. I need peace...

  A great weariness overcame him, like the one that sometimes did before a visiondream. He let it take him, and slipped away.

  TERRIBLE IMAGES CAME to Arden and with them the dread that had haunted him in waking. It permeated the visiondream, drowning him with one horrifying image after another. Arden saw cities crumble to ruin, bloody bodies pinned under rubble and beyond it all, hundreds of sinister red eyes shining from the darkness. Watching, analyzing, planning. Hungering for the destruction their weapons had wrought.

  One by one, he saw Stelemia's sacred lights extinguished, saw their sacred places defiled, witnessed great fires burning on the black surface of Crystal Lake as the Stelemian Royal Navy was engulfed by flame.

  What does it mean? What am I seeing?

  Then he saw them. Huge metal creatures, standing in straight lines, holding weapons not seen for millennia. They were only images and no threat to him—but still he feared them. He had no idea what they were, but their purpose was clear.

  They would annihilate humanity.


  The metal beasts were destroying a Stelemian city with their weapons. They fired their projectiles, tearing apart its stone walls, slaughtering its defenders. After this, Arden saw images of bloody bodies strewn through the rubble, of fires burning, of filthy children weeping in the ruins of their homes. Then the metal beasts strode among them, burning everything, filling the air with ash.

  Arden knew what they were. The Ancient Enemy who had exiled humanity from the Light of the Lost Sun.

  The images faded and he saw a woman running ahead of him. The visiondream propelled him forward until he was running in her wake. He followed her through dark, dripping passages, and through sharp, twisting caves. Then he saw her face.

  It was his half-blooded daughter, Kara. He had never spoken to her and only seen her from a distance, but her face was unmistakable. You look like Semira. A red light shone at her neck and the next image showed him what it was.

  The artifact.

  Somehow his half-blood daughter had activated it. Her image came to him again, as she journeyed deep into the Nether. Arden was propelled along with her, and soon realized he had trodden this path before. They were heading to the Dead City.

  Feelings came to him and in them a message. Kara would save them. She had come out here to find a way to stop the ancient enemy and save humanity.

  He followed her into the Dead City, along its silent concrete corridors and finally to a battered metal door. The very one where the voice had spoken from.

  Arden watched her knock, and the door open. Standing before her was a man made of metal. A brief flash of memory of a book his mother had read to him as a child came to him. It was the Stelemian story of the Metal Man. Could this metal being be the Metal Man of the children's tale?

  Kara spoke to the strange man, as he led her into a giant room. Within it stood a great host of metal men like the one beside his half-blood daughter.