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

by Riley Morrison

  “So you put it back on?”

  “Yes, and the sickness went away.” She sniffed. “Odd, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed.” He thought back to all the books he had read, but nothing like the artifact stood out in them. “I have never heard of anything like that. Do you know if it does anything else?”

  “Not that I know of. Wrynric didn’t get time to explain much about it because...” She took a deep breath. “Kahan killed everyone.” She started to cry again so he pulled her close and she snuggled her face against the side of his neck. “What else did Kahan say about me? Did he say how I’m supposed to be a threat?”

  “No, all he said was that you have something which could bring about the end of all life. One of the women he led called you a half-blood.” Aemon shivered, despite the warmth under the blanket. “She went around to every survivor in the caravan and gave them your description and demanded they tell her where you went. No one knew so she... she cut their throats. They must be willing to do anything to find you.”

  “But I’m not a threat,” Kara wailed. “Why won’t they leave me alone?”

  “I am sorry. I wish I knew.”

  “Where are they now? Could they find us here?”

  “I do not know where they are. Kahan left suddenly, and the crazy woman was not happy about it. She was so angry, I thought she was going to attack him. She kept insisting you were close.”

  Kara’s long sigh warmed his neck. “All I want to do is find a way to get rid of the artifact. What am I going to do, Aemon? I don’t want to die.”

  The desperation in her voice made his heart twinge.

  He needed to find a way to make things better for her, to free her from this madness. But how? He had read so many books. Surely something in one of them could help her.

  Then, out of nowhere, he had the answer. “The temple. We go to the temple.”

  “The temple?”

  “The Temple of Sacred Lights, home of the Order of Ibilirith. They might be able to help you.” Aemon stood and lit the torch, blinking in the bright light. “Show me what Wrynric gave you.”

  Kara waited until her eyes had adjusted, then got to her feet and held up the artifact. It was attached to a silver chain and looked like a playing card with strange writing over it. A small, dimly lit red light bulb protruded from one end.

  Aemon leaned closer. A copper-colored circle with small wires running across it sat near the center of the artifact. The wires reminded him of the ones that powered the sacred lights, except these were smaller and not pitted from corrosion.

  Shaking his head, he said, “No idea what that is, but it looks like something the Order of Ibilirith might know of. They have records dating back to the old world that tell of the technologies of the past. We should go to the temple. They might be able to tell us more.”

  She clasped her fingers around the artifact. “What if they decide to hand me over to the Inquisitors? What if...”

  “They are the only people I can think of that might know of what you carry.”

  “But the Inquisitor General. The way she looked at me. What if Wrynric lied about where he got the artifact? He might have stole it from the Order.”

  That had not even occurred to Aemon. “All I can say is that if I was in your position, I would go to the temple. What other choice do you have?”

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed.

  “The decision on whether you seek their help or not is yours.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I will help you, no matter what your decision is.”

  What did he have to go back to anyway? His parents did not want him, Morgon was gone and the bank would send assassins after him if they knew he still lived. For better or worse, he and Kara were in this together.

  Kara began to pace back-and-forth, the artifact clasped in her hands, the light from the bulb shining out from between her fingers. Aemon let her be, while she thought things through.

  Eventually, she stopped pacing and said, “I suppose I have little choice.” Her eyes became unfocused. “I have heard of the temple, but know little beyond my home in Westhollow. Where is it? Could you take me there?”

  A surge of joy overwhelmed the ache in his heart. He had found a way to bring her hope. “Of course I can take you there.”

  Her relieved smile quickly faded. “Oh no, I just remembered. Before he made me flee the tavern, Wrynric said he would meet me in Deep Cave. I doubt he’s still alive, but there’s always the chance he is. Perhaps we should find him first.”

  “And if we cannot?”

  “Then we head to the temple.” She looked down at the artifact. “He’s the only one that knows anything about this thing—who isn’t trying to kill me.”

  Aemon’s heart sank. He had wanted to help Kara on his own. “Did he say where he would meet you? Deep Cave is a big city.”

  “The Shrine of Lydan. Do you know it?”

  “No, but I am sure someone there will. Do you think he will give you answers if we find him?”

  She made a fist. “I will make him tell me everything. He was the one that got me into this. He owes me.”

  Grinning, Aemon kicked some gravel into the river. If Wrynric was not forthcoming with answers, he may well suffer the same fate as Veladan. From the sounds of it, he deserved it too. What sort of man would force something like the artifact on someone and not warn them of the consequences?

  “I will help you find him then,” Aemon said.

  Kara put the artifact away and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “If Wrynric does not turn up in Deep Cave, we will head straight to the temple.” Aemon plotted out the path they would need to take in his head. “To get there, we need to find the entrance to Radashan Crevice and follow the River of the Gods, which flows through it. From there, we head to the Rift Gate.”

  “I’ve heard of the River of the Gods. A pilgrim who... ah... visited me told me about it. He said it’s a holy place with statues and shrines to the divines.”

  “I have never been there myself, but I have read about these places in my books and seen them on maps.”

  Aemon grabbed the blanket and draped it over their shoulders, holding the torch in front of them for warmth.

  “Why is it called the River of the Gods?” Kara asked.

  Aemon leaned against her to speak into her ear so he did not have to shout. “The River of the Gods is where the Four Divines are said to have climbed to heaven to drive out an ancient enemy that had seized control of it. The divines failed to kill the enemy and managed only to put them to sleep.” He chuckled. “At least, that is the story the priests and Inquisitors would have us believe. I am not so certain it is true.”

  “If that is what they tell us, then it must be true. They are chosen of the divines. Why would they lie?”

  Was Kara truly that naive?

  “Do not believe everything those in power tell you. There are many self-serving, deluded and corrupt people in high positions and they will do anything to further their own ends and undermine or kill their enemies. Those who run Stelemia use our religion as a way to control us.”

  Her eyes began to glaze over, like Morgon’s used to when Aemon was giving him a diatribe on history or philosophy. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Back to the matter at hand. As I said earlier, we need to head to Deep Cave, then to Radashan Crevice and the Rift Gate and then from there, find our way to the temple.”

  “So you can find these places and lead me through them?”

  Aemon glanced away and sucked in his lower lip. By Lydan, he hoped he could.

  When he turned back to face Kara, he was struck by how vulnerable she looked. Her shoulders were slumped, like she carried a great weight on them, and bags were under her eyes.

  Aemon squared his shoulders. “I am no hero, but I promise I will help you rid yourself of this curse—no matter where your journey may take me.”

  Kara gave him her special, radiant smile and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m so happy you’
re here. I’ve been on my own and didn’t know what to do. Thank you, so much.”

  Seeing that smile and the light it brought to her beautiful eyes was the only thanks he needed.

  Then he remembered his duties. Rubin. The bank... His mission in Deep Cave. He started gnawing on a fingernail.

  His life as a banker was over.

  Kara watched him. “What’s wrong?”

  Aemon broke off a bit of nail and squished it between his teeth. “Tell no one I work for the Royal Stelemian Bank. They have intelligence agents everywhere who keep them abreast of everything. Some I know. Others I do not.”

  “What will they do to you?”

  “They will inform the bank I am still alive, and the Banking Council will put a price on my head. The penalty for deserting the bank, losing their gold and not fulfilling their task will be...” He found it hard to swallow. “Death.”

  “What task did they give you?”

  “I cannot tell you. If the bank ever found out I shared their secrets, they would kill my family.”

  She shook her head. “The bankers sound horrible. Why does the Priest King allow them to get away with things like that?”

  “Because, without the bank, there is no Stelemia. From food production and minting coins to loaning gold and storing the wealth of the noble families—the bank has their corrupt hands in everything.” Laughing bitterly, he added, “The banking council and the secretive people who own the bank are the real power in Stelemia.”

  Kara must not have known what to say to that, for she turned to stare at the river.

  Aemon prepared to douse the torch. “I think we should wait here one day, then head back to the caravan and grab supplies before we travel to Deep Cave. We do not know where the passage you were climbing up to goes, and honestly, I doubt I could climb up that slippery rock anyway.”

  Kara nodded absently and sat. He put out the torch and huddled close to her for warmth. It was not long before both were asleep.

  A DAY LATER, THEY EMERGED onto the highway and cautiously approached the dead trader caravan. The reek of rotting flesh made them cover their mouths. Stopping at the entrance to the chamber, Aemon peered in. It looked the same as when he had left. Bodies, blood and overturned wagons everywhere.

  There was no sign of Kahan or his companions, nor any indication that anyone had stumbled upon the slaughter. Rats skittered in and out of the torchlight, beady eyes glittering.

  A large one ran over Kara’s feet. “Yuck.” She kicked at another who came near her and sent it fleeing back into the darkness. “Let’s get what we need so we can get out of here. This place... it belongs to the dead now.”

  Aemon entered the chamber, walking among the rats and the corpses, careful to avoid looking at where Morgon had fallen. An image of his friend being fed on by vermin came unbidden to his mind. The stench of death overpowered him and he fell to his knees and vomited.

  Kara, gagging herself, put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. When there was nothing left in his stomach, the nausea eased but the lightheadedness remained. His books rarely spoke of the aftermath of battles, other than their political ramifications. Around him were only a few dozen bodies. What would a thousand corpses smell—

  He retched bile. Stop thinking, fool. Go get the supplies and get out of here.

  When they got to the supply wagons, they grabbed food, water, a short sword, a few knives and half a dozen spare torches, and shoved them in a sack. Aemon wrapped a belt around his waist and attached a scabbard but struggled to sheath the sword in it.

  It was harder than it looked!

  Aemon swore under his breath. The absurdity of it all. He had never held a sword in his life and he was all that stood between Kara and the people who would see her dead.

  How Veladan would laugh if he saw Aemon now, struggling to get his sword point to go into the top of the scabbard. It looked so easy. You slide the sword in, and then you are done. Yet, when he tried to sheath the weapon, the point kept missing the opening.

  Luckily, Kara was too busy keeping watch to notice.

  Finally, Aemon got the sword sheathed. Shaking his head at his lack of coordination, he went over to the cart belonging to the bank. One of Veladan’s mercenary companions lay sprawled beside it, a javelin sticking out of his neck. Aemon tried not to look at the man’s face when he stepped over the body. A rat leapt from the cart at his approach, almost making him drop the torch.

  “Go away. Get,” he snapped at the rodents feeding on the dead mercenary. The rats looked up at him, then went back to feeding.

  Breathing through his cloak, Aemon climbed onto the cart and opened the chest. All the pouches of gold were still there. He picked one up and emptied the coins onto the floor of the cart.

  Kara came up beside him and gasped. “Wow. I’ve never seen so much gold in my life.”

  Aemon grabbed another pouch and emptied it too. Silver coins spilled everywhere, some rolling off the cart. He took half a dozen silvers and shoved them into his pocket.

  Kara’s eyes widened. “Why aren’t you taking the gold?”

  “Gold coins will draw too much attention. Few people use them. Silver, on the other hand, is more common.”

  “Oh.” She picked up a gold coin and studied it. “It’s heavy.”

  “Please, put it down...” Even out there, he felt Rubin’s gaze on him. “I do not like the idea of stealing from the bank.”

  She tossed the coin away. “Whoever stumbles across this cart is gonna steal it all anyway. Why not take what we can? There’s enough gold here to live like—”

  “When the bank learns their gold is missing, they will have their agents keep an eye out for anyone who has stumbled upon a recent fortune. I feel nothing but pity for the person who takes this gold. The bank will make sure they do not live to enjoy it.”

  Sighing, Kara backed away from the cart. Aemon climbed off and grabbed the sack of supplies they had gathered earlier. With a last glance at the carnage, they started down the highway toward Deep Cave.

  They endured the journey in silence, their attention focused on their surroundings. Kahan might lay in ambush somewhere along the road, knowing Kara would have few options to get out of the Limestone Caves. Fortunately, side passages leading from the highway were abundant, giving them ample places to hide if they saw something. These passages also gave Kahan plenty of places to ambush them from, but Aemon tried not to think on that.

  When they were too tired to go on, they decided to find a place to sleep. Heading down a side tunnel, they found a small chamber to hide in. After extinguishing the torch, they ate a meal, and then Aemon took first watch.

  Staying awake when it was pitch black was difficult, but that was not the only thing he had to contend with. A stream flowed nearby, making it hard to hear if something was approaching, and the stench from the dead caravan wafted along the highway, turning his stomach. Then there was the water dripping from the ceiling, slowly drenching him.

  Aemon was wet, miserable and afraid.

  He attempted to hold back a bitter laugh, but it came anyway. To think he had once thought counting coins and cleaning the vault were the worst things imaginable! How insular and sheltered his life had been.

  It was a relief to wake Kara for her turn on watch. He only hoped his fatigue would outweigh his discomfort and fear and that he would slip off to sleep easily.

  She woke him hours later and they set out along the highway. Aemon’s eyes were heavy with fatigue and his back ached. He had barely slept, though Kara did not look like she had fared any better. She shuffled her feet, shoulders slumped, eyes half closed.

  Some time later, light appeared in the tunnel ahead. It has to be the guard post near the entrance to Deep Cave, he thought, elated. He increased his pace. How he wanted to get to the city, find a room at an inn and go to sleep beside its warm fire.

  His heart kicked. The lights were moving.

  Aemon grabbed Kara’s arm. “We need to hide.”

  She
watched the lights, then nodded once. He led her into a side passage and doused their torch in a pool of water.

  If it was Kahan, they had to be ready.

  He unsheathed his sword and waited. Instead of black-clad figures, a column of peasants shuffled by the entrance, their haggard faces grim in the swaying light of their torches.

  Some were covered in blood, others looked like they were in shock—many were both. Had the war between the noble houses in Deep Cave gotten out of control?

  Only once had the peasantry of Deep Cave been driven from their homes by the war—when both noble houses had escalated the conflict by hiring thugs from Gravelbank Bridge who had gone to Deep Cave to offer their services as mercenaries. Once on the payroll, the thugs went about robbing, beating and sometimes killing anyone who had been accused of supporting one side over the other. The thugs were also more than happy to kill one another in drunken brawls that often spilled over from taverns onto the streets. In one such fight, things had gotten so bad that the local garrison was unable to bring order to the streets and the people of the city began to flee.

  The Priest King had sent an army to reestablish order in the city and end the war between the noble houses. He succeeded but the peace lasted no more than a generation before the ruling houses were fighting again but as long as the fighting was kept off the city’s streets and remained in its back alleys, sewers and noble estates; the current Priest King seemed content to let it be.

  The refugees continued to trickle by in the dozens. Things must be really bad, for it seemed as if the entire population was fleeing. Maybe now, the Priest King would be forced to intervene.

  “Let’s find out what’s going on,” Kara said and started to make her way back toward the highway.

  Aemon struggled to sheath his sword in the dark. He did not like the idea of going out there, but it was too late to stop her. Growling under his breath, he raced after her, still trying to get the sword back in its scabbard.

  He caught up to her just as she had finished asking a man what was going on. “War,” the man said, shoving past her.