Heir to a Lost Sun: A Caverns of Stelemia Novel

by Riley Morrison

  “Hey, slow down and let me answer some of your questions.” He grinned.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Sorry, I heard gossip about him all the time. I just wanted to know what he’s really like. Poor people like me are never allowed to see him.”

  “I only saw him once, but at a distance, so I did not get a good look at him. The more powerful families were able to get closer than mine. I did hear him speak, though.”

  “What did he sound like?”

  “He spoke through some sort of machine that carries his voice throughout his halls.”

  She started to wring water out of her hair. “I hope I get to meet him one day. I always wanted to.”

  There was little chance either of them would meet the Priest King. Few outside of the upper echelons of power in the caverns ever did. “I hope you do too.”

  Kara was quiet for a time, contenting herself with drying her hair. Then she asked, “So what’s it like growing up in a rich family?”

  “It is not as interesting as you might think. My brothers were much older than me and my two sisters were married off before I could walk. I spent most of my time in the family library or with my teacher, Tallis, who taught me numbers, politics and countless other things.”

  “How’d you end up working for the bank? You don’t strike me as a greedy copper-pincher, like most rich people.”

  Aemon laughed. “Is that the way you commoners—” He caught himself. “I mean, umm—”

  “Poor muck-feeders? Beggars? Urchins from Blind Fish Wharf?”

  Great, now I have done it. “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend.”

  She tapped his arm under the blanket. “Don’t be so touchy, I’m only playing with you.”

  “Oh...”

  “I’m a commoner. So what? I grew up poor, but not as poor as some.”

  “So, I take it commoners do not like us nobles. Or do you call everyone names?”

  “We have names for everyone, some so foul I won’t repeat them here. Many commoners dislike the noble families and think they’re all pompous dandies.”

  He laughed so hard, he choked. When he could speak, he said, “Trust me, there are many pompous dandies in the Capital Spire. Some of the men wear more perfume than their wives.” The mirth left him. “There are a lot of bad noble families up there. They murder one another all the time.”

  Kara shrugged. “Poor people kill each other too. There are bad people everywhere.”

  Hmm, maybe she is as cynical as I am. “Kara, you seem...”

  “Seem what?”

  He fidgeted and fought the urge to bite his nails. “So interesting.”

  Kara did not mock him, like he had expected. Instead, she smiled and closed her eyes and seemed to slip off to sleep.

  He let her be, and stared out into the darkness beyond camp until his eyes were heavy with fatigue. Some time later, he jolted from a light doze and sat bolt upright.

  Something had woken him.

  Scanning the camp, Aemon found most of the caravan asleep under their blankets. Five men stood on watch, but none showed signs of alarm. He glanced at Kara, then Morgon. Both still slept, his friend snoring softly.

  Just a dream. Nothing to worry about.

  No sooner had he closed his eyes, he opened them again. He had heard a noise. Something scraping over rock, somewhere deeper in the chamber.

  Aemon got out from under the blanket and took a few steps toward the edge of camp. There he held his breath, and listened. Something was definitely out there, and the noise was getting louder. “Wake up. Wake up. Something is coming!”

  It only took seconds for men to leap to their feet, grab their weapons and light more torches. Aemon could no longer hear the noise over the sound of the guards booted feet. They formed a loose shield-wall and readied themselves for battle.

  When nothing came leaping out of the darkness, Veladan looked at Aemon and raised his eyebrows.

  “I heard noises out there,” Aemon said.

  They waited, but still, nothing happened.

  Three guards brandishing torches and swords cautiously made their way deeper into the chamber and soon disappeared behind a large flowstone that dripped with water. Aemon chewed his nails, waiting for them to cry out in terror as some primordial horror fell upon them. Instead, they returned a few minutes later and reported seeing nothing.

  Everyone started to relax, putting it down to a false alarm. Men put their weapons away, then drew them again when something flew from behind a limestone pillar and struck the cook in the head.

  The cook backed away so rapidly he stumbled and fell. Another man kicked the projectile and frowned. “It’s just a rock.”

  Before anyone could react, a savage, high-pitched wail filled the chamber, the sound echoing off the walls, until it felt like it came from everywhere at once. Black figures burst from the darkness and launched themselves at the front rank of guards—who were ill-prepared for the attack.

  Aemon’s mouth opened in a silent scream, as the guards were cut down by figures dressed head-to-toe in black armor. All he could think about was that his caravan was going to join the growing list of others that never made it out of the Limestone Caves.

  One of the black-garbed attackers threw a rock and it struck Aemon in the head. Intense pain shot through his skull and he stumbled backward, feeling woozy. Striking the side of the cart, he collapsed to the ground. Warm liquid filled his right eye. He reached up to touch it. Blood.

  His blood.

  Morgon cried out his name and started moving toward him. His friend stumbled on the uneven floor and fell several feet from him.

  Aemon’s thoughts turned to Kara. He needed to get up and help her escape. It might be the merchant’s thugs attacking them.

  Before he could move, a peaceful darkness overcame him, and he slipped away.

  Chapter 5

  KARA

  Kara opened her eyes and found herself atop a cliff overlooking a frozen lake with snow-covered structures along the shore. Her breath misted in the air and her limbs felt like they were turning to ice. Behind her, a dense mist swirled on a chill breeze.

  A light in the sky caught her eye. The distant orange disk she’d seen the last time she’d been on the surface hung high overhead.

  What was it? Was it alive? Why did it maintain its lonely vigil over this frozen, blighted world?

  Something Wrynric had spoken of came back to her. She squinted her eyes and studied it. Could it be his Lost Sun?

  Her eyes watered from the glare, so she peered down at the lake, hugging herself for warmth. Nothing moved down there. The whole world seemed dead.

  What had brought her here?

  A strong gust of wind made her stumble backward and fall to the snow-covered ground. Her landing was soft, the snow cushioning her fall.

  Shivering, she got back to her feet and brushed herself off. For the first time she noticed what she wore. No wonder she was freezing—she was dressed in her courtesan gown.

  Imogen. You have returned.

  Kara spun around to find out who had spoken—but no one was there. “Who are you?”

  A gentle after-breeze ruffled Kara’s hair. It blew away the mist, revealing a frozen forest of skeletal fingers. No, not fingers.

  Dead, branchless trees.

  Hundreds of them stood on the side of a hill, with tendrils of gossamer mist swirling around them like serpents. The trees pointed skyward like spears, as if reaching for the orange disk to free them from their icy torment.

  The disk is the sun, Imogen. You know this.

  So, it was Wrynric’s Lost Sun. How had she found it? And who was speaking? The voice sounded like the one she’d heard the last time she’d been on the surface.

  Look among the dead trees, Imogen. Tell me what you see.

  Kara studied the dead forest. Near the center stood something that didn’t belong there. “I see a stone altar with megaliths around it, like the one I stood upon the first time I was brought here.”
r />   Your children—the ancient soulless enemy of humankind—made that altar.

  “I have no children.”

  Yes you do, Imogen, Mother of Steel Children. You and those who worked with you made many children. The enemy you birthed makes these holy places to honor you.

  “Stop calling me Imogen. My name’s Kara.”

  An invisible force spun her to face the frozen lake. See what the war against your children brought upon us. Look to the edge of the lake, and tell me what you see.

  The hand shoved Kara forward.

  “Stop, please, I’ll fall over the edge.”

  Tell me what you see.

  A foot from the ledge, the force withdrew. Kara backed away a few steps and took a deep calming breath. When her nerves settled, she peered down at the lake. “I see frozen water and around it, what looks like half-buried buildings.”

  Those buildings were part of a great city. For years beyond count, they have been buried under snow and ice. But now the world is thawing, and the ghosts that haunt it stir once more.

  Kara felt cold breath on her cheek, making her hair stand on end.

  The voice whispered in her ear, But this world is being corrupted and with it, my memory. Shadows rise to hunt, the ancient, soulless enemy awakens and a hero leaves his lover to linger in this frozen world—forever alone.

  The whisper became a hiss. With your return, everything will be devoured by darkness and the thawing that has only just begun, will be for nothing.

  Kara swallowed. What was the invisible woman talking about? Was she insane? “What happened to you? What happened to this world?”

  The breath on her face withdrew. How is it you do not remember, Imogen? The code of this place was written so you would remember everything.

  “What code? Who is Imogen?” Kara raised her hands to the sky in exasperation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Kara and I come from—”

  Impossible. You are Imogen. You wear her beacon around your neck.

  The invisible force grabbed Kara by the arm and made her look toward the buildings. Your children did that, Imogen. Every city, every home—buried under ice.

  The force tightened its grip. Kara gritted her teeth.

  One day, when you breathe the cold air of the surface with your own lungs—your children shall devour you, and they will sleep once more.

  A high-pitched shriek split the air as a dark shadow passed overhead. The invisible force let go. Did you hear that? The Great Shadow is here. I hope it tears you apart!

  Something blotted out the sun. Kara cried out as a huge, black shape darted toward her. Before she could flee, it was on her.

  She screamed as black talons dug into her flesh. The shadow lifted her into the air and carried her out over the lake. Its claws sunk deeper, shredding muscle, snapping tendons and boring holes into her bones.

  The light dimmed, the world spinning into darkness and pain.

  KARA WOKE TO ANOTHER nightmare.

  Men screamed, oxen ran amok and blood puddled into pools on the uneven floor. What was going on?

  The caravan guards were fighting. The lethargy of sleep left Kara instantly as her mind caught up with what was happening.

  The black-clad figures that burned her home had found her again! She crawled under the wagon and hid behind it, hoping they’d not seen her.

  What should I do? If the guards fall...

  Morgon backed against the cavern wall a dozen feet from her, his arms raised defensively. A javelin flew through the air and lodged in his stomach. He grasped it as he slowly sank to the ground. Crying out in pain, he rolled onto his side and saw her hiding behind the wagon. He tried to say something but all that came out was a gurgled moan.

  Kara held her breath. Aemon lay on the ground near him, his face covered in blood. Was this real or was it still part of the nightmare? It was all happening so fast.

  “Hand over the red-headed woman and the rest of you can live,” a male voice commanded over the clang of swords and the cries of the dying. “Hand her over now or every one of you will die.”

  Kara’s blood ran as cold as ale from the icy cellar under the Golden Keg. It was the man who had killed Berda.

  “Half-blood, I know you’re here,” a woman shrieked, her voice somehow more frightening than the man’s. “Come out. You need to be stopped.”

  The fighting slowed, but a few of the guards fought on.

  Kara peeked around the edge of the wagon. Two black-clad figures stood in the midst of the fighting, watching as the last of the guards threw down their weapons to surrender. The taller figure’s masked face was lit by torchlight. He had the same cold, dead eyes as the man at the tavern. The second figure standing beside him looked like a woman, her hair hanging out of the back of her mask. She held a javelin poised over her shoulder, ready to hurl it at Kara if she dared come out of hiding.

  The black-clad man went up to several dead traders, grabbed them by the hair and studied their faces. When he shook his head, the woman holding the javelin screamed, “Half-blood. Show yourself.”

  Kara backed away from the wagon until she was out of the light. She needed to flee before they found her. With no torch, it wouldn’t be easy but at least it would make her harder to spot.

  She crept to the edge of camp, staying out of the light. Veladan and one of his companions fought two black-clad figures no more than a dozen feet from her. Luckily, they were too busy hacking at one another to notice her.

  Keeping low to the ground, Kara made her way onto the highway. As she moved, her mind raced. The fighting blocked the way to Deep Cave, so she couldn’t flee that direction. She would have to head back toward the capital, find somewhere to hide then wait for the enemy to leave. After they were gone, she could come out, grab some supplies from the wagons and try to make her way to Deep Cave on her own.

  That idea frightened her. She knew next to nothing about the Limestone Caves or Deep Cave. How could she do it by herself?

  When she left the faint glow of the torches, she became enveloped in darkness. Feeling her way along the road, she found a recess in the wall. Climbing in, she kept her breath low and listened for sounds of pursuit. It was hard to hear over the fighting, but she thought she heard running feet coming her way.

  Pressing against the rock wall, she hoped she wouldn’t be discovered.

  Harsh breathing and booted feet sounded just outside her hiding spot. A moment later, the glow of a torch revealed two figures locked in combat. They moved past her hiding spot before she could properly identify them—but one was definitely wearing black.

  Then, to her horror, the figures came back her way, the torchlight flailing wildly. A black-clad figure parried a series of blows from an attacker Kara couldn’t see without leaning out of the recess to look. For a moment, an armored back came into view as one of the fighters passed the entrance.

  It was Veladan. He held a torch in one hand and his sword in the other. The black-clad figure attacking him glanced past the warrior as he circled by Kara’s hiding spot a second time. The figure’s eyes widened.

  Kara had been seen.

  Veladan lunged forward and almost took his adversary in the guts but they dodged away then tried to slip past him to get to her. Now that the black-clad figure had seen her—she needed to move.

  When the combatants moved away from the entrance, Kara burst from hiding and made a run for it. Heading down the highway, she raced to get out of the torchlight.

  “Stop!” came a commanding female voice from behind her.

  Kara glanced over her shoulder as she ran and cried out in shock. The black-clad figure was only a dozen steps behind her.

  Where was Veladan? Had he fallen?

  Kara kept running, but the enemy soon caught up and grabbed her arm and spun her around. The woman raised her sword—ready to plunge it into Kara’s neck.

  Suddenly, her head separated from her body, sending torrents of warm blood into Kara’s face. The dead woman’s hand
still clasped Kara’s hair as her body toppled sideways. Kara landed on the road in a rapidly spreading pool of blood.

  Screaming hysterically, she tore free of the dead woman’s grip and crawled through the blood to get away. Something lifted her off the ground and an armored hand covered her mouth. “Shush now, girl. You’re coming with me.”

  Veladan!

  Kara called on Lydan to protect her as Veladan dragged her away from the dead body and the distant battle. Fifty feet further up the highway they came to a narrow opening in the wall. He dragged her in.

  Once they were well away from the entrance, he removed his hand from her mouth and lit a torch. “Now stay quiet or I’ll hurt you.”

  Kara spat out some of the dead woman’s blood, then whispered, “Where are we going?”

  He pushed her forward. “We’re getting away from those killers. They’re probably the ones responsible for all the missing caravans. Now get moving, or they’ll find us.”

  She began to move, wondering why Veladan hadn’t taken the black-clad killers up on their offer. They’d given the caravan an ultimatum: If the red-headed woman were handed over, the survivors would be spared. Kara, being the only woman in camp—and red-headed at that—had clearly been the target of the attack.

  What was Veladan thinking?

  The passage narrowed and they were forced to walk sideways, their noses pressed against rock. Kara was afraid. Afraid of the dark figures, afraid of Veladan and afraid of the dark. But she had to keep going and hope for the best.

  The artifact around her neck seemed to be growing heavier. If only she could take it off and hurl it into some bottomless pit and be done with it. It had brought her nothing but grief. She hated Wrynric, she hated this cave, she hated everything!

  Why is this happening to me? I pay my respects to the divines. Why am I being punished?

  An hour later, they emerged from the passage into an opening barely large enough for them to stand. The only exit was another small hole in the opposite wall from where they’d entered.

  Kara groaned. They would need to crawl if they were to continue, and her knees were already aching from having crawled through the last passage.