Just a heads up…
There’s a major reorganization of my books coming down the pipe in the next few weeks. More details will come, but for now I can safely say that The Nine Suns series will look very different when it is done.
In the meantime, here is an excerpt from the next coming installment of the Nine Suns – no title as of yet. Apologies for any misspelled words or types, its still pretty raw. Enjoy!
“It was the splinters I hated.” Gerel shifted about on the hard bench. “Especially in the final yearts. Every time I went out on the mast, I collected another splinter in my fingers. That mast was more splinter to than wood.”
“More than the splinters,” Pohtoli responded. Those damned runes…every time they lit up, I never knew if they were going tap set the ship on fire.” He tapped a dark spot on his arm, where such an incident had left its mark. “I won't miss that,.”
The others in the cell chimed in. “The crystal locker was like a hot day in hell. No windows, not even a breeze…”
“Cracks in the hull...every time we landed I swear we picked up a new family of rats.”
“Never mind the rats. Remember when we landed on Tiyasfal, and those strange crabs made their nests in the downing? Three weeks to root out every last one of them! And those claws were sharp.”
“We could eat those crabs. You can't eat rats...well, people don’t’. But ursuhli…”
“What about ursuhli?”
“Well, you eat bats…”
“And you think that means we eat rats?”
“You don’t?”
“Of course not! Rats are filthy creatures. Do I look like a cat to you?”
Gaebrel leaned back against the bulkhead, closing his eyes, letting his comrades complaints waft over him like a cold breeze. Part of him wanted to correct them, to call them out for their ingratitude. But he could see the pain behind the complaints. It was their way of grieving. Reminding themselves of the Sparrows bad points helped numb, if only for a moment, the pain of the loss.
Gaebrel couldn't bring himself to speak. He stared up at the ceiling, too tired to speak, too numb of weep. He'd lost more than a ship...it was like ‘ed list a limb and a friend at the same time. The Sparrow, the fastest ship in the Nine Suns...his home for so many years. He knew every inch of her planking, had climbed out onto the mast. When the sails were opened and she ran before the wind, lea[ping through the gray like a hound let off the leash, he could feel the excitement running up his legs. A ship was a living thing, and the Sparrow was a runner.
Now she was gone, a wreck left on Okhenaar, caught in that cursed green ice, gone to wherever that vile place went, never to be seen again in his lifetime. His ship was lost...a part of him died with it. He was no longer a captain, just another man behind bars, cast on the wind.
Abruptly, Gaebrel became aware that his comrades had fallen silent. He looked up, and saw his father standing on the other side of the bars.
“You look terrible,” Ifrick said, and for a moment Gaebrel thought he detected an actual hint of concern in the older mans voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gaebrel shot back. He’d jump naked into an Empyrean stone before giving the man the satisfaction of seeing his pain. “I’ve never felt better!”
“Really? Most captains who lose their ships will dive to the bottom of a bottle. Or close a door and reach for a loaded pistol. But you don’t drink, and I have you guns locked away. Can't have your brains painted on the side of my ship. People will notice and talk. Besides, better you sit here sober and alive, that way you can reflect on your failure son! And I don’t mean your ship!”
“Is there a point to this, old man? You’re voice is starting to grate…”
“Okhenaar, you fool!” Ifrick gripped the bars of the cell. “A treasure beyond imagining! You had in your grasp, and you let it slip through you fingers!”
“I think Zemovaar had something to say about that…”
“You should have come to me, Gaebrel! You should have brought Bartik to me...we’d have that treasure in my holds, and I would have made sure you all got your share! Every free sail and captain for hire in the Harza lands would be flocking to my banner and Stozenvaal would as good as ours! I would make you my heir...the Suns know you brothers have earned their disgrace. Now its lost.” One hand thump against the bars in frustration. “I started life as a pirate,” he said, his voice suddenly weary. “And now it looks like I’ll end it the same way. All I have is lost...a dream, dust on the wind. I hope your happy, boy!”
“I’ll be happy when you take your whining somewhere else, Father.”
Ifrick glared. Before he could say anything else, Potholi spoke up. “Lord Protector,” he began, “You anger is well justified, but if I may…”
“Speak your mind, Iyantuan! Don’t waste my time.”
Pohtoli paused a moment. “What are you plans for us? Are we your prisoners?”
“What are my plans.” Ifrick repeated the words. “To honest, I haven’t given it much thought! Maybe I’ll put you all to work...a fortune was lost in Okhenaar, and repayment is required! Or maybe I’ll strap each of you to a cannon and blast you into the gray, to feed the birds and peradins! I don’t know, and I don’t care. Until I do know and give a damn, you all can stay in my brig and rot!”
With that, Ifrick stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Pohtoli shook his head. “You’re father,” he said after a moment, “is a real bastard.”
“Now you know this?” Gaebrel said with a bitter laugh. He leaned back again, and closed his eyes, and this tie, to his relief, sleep did come…
He floated the darkness, a disembodied spirit, a mind that sees all and understands everything. The Nine Suns were before him, shining lights in the gray of the Empyrean, and surrounding it all the eternal night of the Bittering, the light of the stars beyond cold and hungry and unknowable.
This was a dream. He realized it from the beginning, and yet it was something more. A vision, of what might happen, what could happen...hard to tell be or the other, or perhaps both. He wasn't afraid, more bemused than anything, he did not resist as some invisible force, and unseen hand, took hold and pulled him further in, towards the floating collection of lands and barely habitable rocks called the Harza states, to the familiar diamond shape of Stozenvaal. A fleet floated over it, cannons firing away, wreathing the area around the Crookside in white smoke and haze. Men in the ground shot back...broken ships floated in the Crook, while bodies lay on the ground. Hard to to tell who was winning...and he knew that question was not relevant at this moment.
Another ship floated above it all. On its deck stood a robed figure, and before that was the Helix of Terminal Negation. A pair of glowing hands raised up and gripped the glass sides of the Helix. Flames of many colors leapt out, envoping the figure, who stood there unmoving, mouth open in a scream...or was it laughter? The robes burned away, revealing the metal skeleton of the Automaton, which in turn glowed red, then disintegrated under the heat, turned to metallic ash, then nothingness. The rest of the ship flowed, consumed by a coruscating ball of flashing light, which swiftly formed itself into a ring whose interior was a disc of pure blackness at first, then shimmer and twisted until it showed the Empyrean...but not the Empyrean that surrounded Stozenvaal. A world could be seen distantly through it...he recognized it from his travels. Ilorin, home world of the Valarei. But he knew instinctively this wasn't the world he’d visited...Ilorin as it was in the distant past. He was seeing the past through the glowing ring.
The ring seemed to quiver and for a moment the light dimmed. Then a glowing finger shot out from the side of the ring, quickly splitting into hundreds of separate strands, of of which struck one of the ships floating above Stozenvaal. More shot down towards the land below, spearing men through the chest, striking down women and children before they had a chance to flee. When they hit the ground the strands spread out, coalescing into a broad fire that spread across the land fast as thought, faster than a shout, burning everything them touched. Within the span of ten quick breaths, everything living thing on the land was scorched, dead for the it had the time to realize it. The fire then burning deep into the ground, and Stozenvaal cracked like a glass egg hit by a hammer, the pieced crumbing apart, consumed by the multi-colored fire, which turned the physical structure of the land into something else, into food for the horrible working above. The disc grew larger and larger, until he could see within it a fleet of ships, moving through the gray.
They were made of stone, and looked like giant fortresses or castle that had decided to rise up and fly. Their tall towers were peaked with glowing crustal, and their sizes marked with giant stone faces, so stylized and twisted that it was hard to tell what they were supposed to represent. Scorch marks and battle damage marred many of hem, and occasionally the towers of one would glow and send out blts pass red lightening at some unseen enemy.
The ring was a tunnel through time, he realized. The first of the ships passed through it, moving from the distant past into the present, and the others swiftly followed. Hundred of ships, surrounding the area around the dying Stozenvaal, spreading out for hundreds of miles. Stozenvaal itself twisted and diminished, the last fragments of it converted into energy and sucked away, leaving only an empty space where a land and its people once floated in the Empyrean. The last of the ships came through the rung, and with a final flash, it winked out of existence, the connection to the past and its horrors lost. But the stone ships remained.
Then his vision shifted outwards until he was looking upon the Nine Suns as a whole…watching as that fleet of stone ships spread out, attacking in all directions. There was no force that could stop them. Fleets of ships gathered to repel the invaders from the past were scorched by ancient magics long forgotten, more potent and powerful than anything used today. Worlds burned under their assault, the survivors forced into a miserable servitude. No real could stand against them, until at last the only Sun that was left was Agaz itself, and from this came the Neverborn, drawn to fight against an ancient enemy long forgotten, the ensuring conflict so great and terrible that it seemed the Suns themselves might be snuffed out…
“Enough!” Gaebrel shouted into the darkness. “Enough, I say. This isn’t real, this is a dream, and a bad one at that! If you’re going to show me a vision of the fire and death, than the least you could do is add a decent meal and pretty woman to share it with! At least then it would be bearable! Show yourself already or let me wake up, I have burdens of my own, I don’t need this mess as well…”
The Nine Suns faded away, living him surrounded in darkness. A moment later a man appeared...a Valarei fellow, dressed in archaic cloths, wearing a crown made of antlers on his head.
“Progress,” Gaebrel said. “Who the hell are you?”
I am the Young King, came the answer, spoken directly into his head.,
Gabrel rolled his eyes. “No you’re not,” he said. “I’ve met the Young King. He doesn’t look anything like you.”
You are correct. I am a reflection of the first Young King, a memory of him, embedded in the medallion. A fragment of his will. I am the reason you cannot rid yourself of the medallion, why it has stayed in your pocket all these years, and will continue to do so until my purpose is fulfilled.
“I almost dread to ask...what would that be?”
The Infinity Key...I am a piece of that ancient artifact. The Young King removed the medallion from it, and without that final piece the device is useless. I mus be be reunited with I...that is why you carry me. You must bring me to the Infinity Key and restore it. And then you must use the power of the Infinity Key to destroy it.
“Sure...I’ll get to work on that! In the meantime, what's with all the visions of death and destruction? Trying to give me nightmares, you’ve given all other kinds of trouble.”
The one you call Zemovaar, he is a kezan.
“I thought the kezan were all dead.”
He is a survivor, the last of his kind. He will use the Helix of Terminal Negation to open a portal into the past, and bring the kezan into the future, before the moment when they were brought low, when they still had the full measure of their power. No realm will stand against them, they will breing about a dark age and ultimately the end of all things. I cannot let this happen, not until my purpose is fulfilled! You must stop it.
“How I am supposed to do that? I have no ship, not even a sword. I might be dead myself by the time I wake up. You ask the impossible.”
It does not matter, that is for you to figure out, you must stop it. Now, do what must be done.
The darkness was replaced by light. “You are bloody useless,” Gaebrel snarled as he was dragged back to wakefulness. “Useless I say! Useless…”
“Useless.” Gaebrel mumbled the words as he opened his eyes. He sat up and leaned forward with a groan, his head spinning as he clutched the side of his head. “Ughh…”
“What was that?” Morrec looked over at him. “Are you all right Captain?”
“Never better,” Gaebrel muttered. It took a moment for the spinning to stop, and then he heard the shouting.
“Iyantuans...they doe so slowly! We give you to our young ones, they cut you and dance as you scream!”
“Shit in your mouth, you feathered savage! Vermin, scum! You infest the Empyrean like rats with wings! Every time one of you dies, the gods laugh!”
“Every one of my wing you kill, we kill ten!”
“Hah! I’ve seen your kind flee before he wind at the sight of an Iyantuan child! Cowards with wings, overgrown chickens, that's what you are!”
“Open that door, Iyantuan! I will kill you where you sand and make your skin into a coat!”
“Bah! I’ll off your wings and given them to my friend here to eat! Hurren, now’s your chance to for a real meal!”
“Don’t pull me into this feud,” Hurren rumbled.
Gaebrel looked up. Pohtoli was standing before the bars, shouting insults across the narrow space between the cells. Locked up in the other one, bound hand and foot, its winds tied to the body with rop, was a tall peradin, who returned the Iyantuan’s attack with jibes of his own.
“You will die screaming!” the peradin said with a clicking sound, the equivalent of a laugh among his kind. “I, Yu’oa, shall make it so!”
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