The Burning Mountain (Book Three of the Nine Suns)

By Zackery Arbela

Trapped on a forgotten world, Gaebrel fights for his survival!

The moon of Ygul...once the seat of a mighty empire, now lost in a violent dark age. It is the last place any traveler would go, but for Gaebrel it is the one place he needs to be.

But things don't work out as planned and Gaebrel finds himself trapped on Ygul, cut off from his crew and pursued by a relentless hunter, a servant of his greatest enemy. Aided only by his sharpshooter friend Yasinnic and accompanied by a bounty hunter who lusts for the heavy price on his head, he faces mayhem and betrayal from all sides, as he comes face to face with the terrible secret at the heart of this fallen world...

The Burning Mountain is the third book of the Nine Suns series. If you like fast-paced sword and sorcery adventure, set in a wild fantasy universe filled with intrigue, reckless heroism and dark supernatural forces, then you will love Zackery Arbela's page-turning series. Buy it now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zackery Arbela
• Release date: Apr 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005862787

Zackery Arbela

The physical body of Zackery Arbela lives somewhere in the wilds of Florida. The mind of Zackery Arbela can be found wandering the various planes and adornments of the temporal spheres, from whence he sometimes returns with new and fantasickal tales to tell.

Book preview

THE BURNING MOUNTAIN

Book Three of the Nine Suns

Zackery Arbela

Copyright 2016 Zackery Arbela

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Prologue

Thus is the universe. Nine Suns there are, nine watchers, nine masters. The worlds their children. The races their seed, the soul the shards of their intellect, the Empyrean the workshop of their divine labors. Who among us has the wisdom to hear their voices, to know their words written? Who can hear the Greater Voice beyond, the One who speaks to the Suns as they speak to us?

Abacus beads clicked, a pen scratched its way across a page. Tired eyes looked down the growing line of numbers, muttering as the mind behind them tabulated numbers, the occasional curse sounding with the realization that a sum was wrong and had to be redone.

The man's name was Galdan and on this night he'd finally forced himself to sit down and balance his accounts. A pile of ledgers sat beside him on top of a battered desk with a front partition that hid his legs and feet. He was somewhere in his sixth decade, bald as an egg, his face sallow from jaundice, the end result of a life hard-lived. Occasionally he would sip from a cup next to the main account book, the grimace on his face giving evidence of the harsh taste. Medicinal, though thus far all it did was insult his tongue.

A pair of oil lamps hung on sconces along the wall, giving the place some light. Open windows let in warm moist air. The night sky outside was dominated first by the buildings of the surrounding town, then beyond that the jungle-covered hills of this region, and above them all the green and brown swirl of the gas giant Sefiir, which this particular moon orbited. In six hours dawn would come, the light of the Sun Maraea lighting up the sky, though Sefiir's face would remain eternally above.

Galdan rubbed his temple and learned back in his chair. An honest businessman, that's how he described himself (for a given value of honest...) cruelly oppressed by rules and regulations! On every world it was the same...the men in charge with their fine coats taking a cut of his earnings and demanding he hand over a strict accounting so they could determine how deep the cut would be.

Taxes...there was no greater oppressor of a man. Hence the ledger he was preparing, carefully doctored to show the amount of gold he'd taken in over the last year was merely two-thirds the amount that was actually sitting in the iron-bound safe behind his chair. A sad thing, when an honest man found himself forced to such measures, but Galdan took the approach that what the town burgesses didn't know wouldn't bother them, and the bribe he'd slipped to that clerk in the Treasurer's office was enough to make sure they continued on in blissful ignorance of his affairs.

A faint breath of air crossed Galdan's face. He glanced up and saw the flames of the oil lamps flicker for a moment. He set the pen down and slipped his right hand below the desk.

Footsteps, then a shadowy form stood in the doorway of his office. It's late, Galdan snapped. Come back in the morning.

Then he got a closer look at the newcomer. Oh, it's you.

The woman stepped into the light. She was young and slender, her red hair bound up in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were a pale blue, her mouth slightly wide on her narrow chin, giving her an exotic look. An attractive woman by any measure. Many men made fools of themselves trying to impress her. Once upon a time, Galdan would have been among them. Now he knew better, knew to look beneath the surface and be wary of what he saw...

I wasn't expecting you for a week, Raina. Galdan pulled his hand out from under the desk.

The job took an unexpected turn. Her voice was husky from years of shouting over the wind.

Do you have it?

Raina tossed a small cloth lump on the table. Galdan unwrapped it and saw a severed finger sporting a golden signet ring with the mark of a prancing deer. Where's the rest of him?

Scattered across ten miles of Tbammer heath. He didn't come willingly.

So, it got messy?

What do you care?

Galdan wrapped the finger. I don't. He turned around, pulling a key ring from a pocket and inserting one of its occupants into the safe. He plucked a small cloth bag from inside, closed and locked the door and turned back around.

Your payment. The bag flew through the air. Raina caught it, felt the heft of the coins inside and nodded.

You're not going to count it? Galdan asked.

No need.

As you wish. Stop by tomorrow, I might have something else for you. Good night. He picked up the pen and bent back down to work. After a moment he looked back up. You're still in my office.

Raina met his gaze. I met someone on Tbammer moon, an old woman who told me the most interesting story.

I've no time for stories.

You'll want to hear this one.

There was an edge in her voice. Galdan leaned back in the chair. His hand slipped back below the desk. All right. Tell me.

Well, she began, it's like this. About thirty years ago, there was a young man in a small town on Tbammer who was sentenced to hang for some crime. He was locked up while the hangman readied the gallows, and begged that worthy fellow to open the cell door and let him flee. He gave the hangman every coin he had for his life, but the hangman said it wasn't enough. So the young man sent word to his friends, asking them to get what coin they could. They came with a bag of silver and gold and gave it to the hangman for their friend's life. He took the money and laughed in their faces, saying it still wasn't enough. The young man then sent word to his sister, asking her to do what she could to save him from the rope. She had no silver, she had no gold, so she gave the hangman the only thing of value she possessed...her maidenhead. The hangman took it, quite brutally as it turns out. When he was done, he told her it was enough, her brother wouldn't hang the following morning. And he kept his word; the young man didn't swing. Instead, the hangman cut his head off.

Raina paused at that point. Good story so far, yes? she asked with a smile.

But Galdan didn't smile back. I've heard better, he managed to reply. Is that it?

The smile remained on her face, but now had a hard edge. Oh no, it gets better. After the execution, the hangman disappeared. Some say he started a new life on another world, using a new name. The sister buried her brother and in time got married. Her husband was a merchant who became a man of great wealth and status. When he died, he left her a very rich widow. She has children, grandchildren, the honor and respect of all who hear her name...but she never forgot her brother, or the hangman who took her virtue for his life and killed him anyway. In fact, she put a bounty on that hangman's head.

Now the smile disappeared. She looked Galdan in the eye. Say...aren’t you from Tbammer?

Galdan surged to his feet, knocking the desk over. The long pistol hidden underneath slipped free from the holster nailed to the side of the leg well. His free hand swept back to cock the hammer a second before the trigger squeezed.

The pistol fired. Raina turned sideways, the ball missing her midsection by inches to hit the wall. Her right hand jerked a small gun from her belt and she fired back, striking Galdan square between the eyes. He fell back, bouncing off the safe and falling to the floor.

Raina raised the gun and gently blew the smoke from the mouth of the barrel. Captain! came the cry from behind. A burly man burst through the door, a blunderbuss in his hand, two more stout fellows coming up behind.

I'm all right, Odren. She tucked the gun back into her belt.

Odren looked at the table, then at the body beyond. Aye, that you are. Went as expected?

Only way it could.

Should have done it the other way. Taken him in the street.

That wouldn't be sporting. She exited the office, headed into the shop beyond. Boxes of various goods, some obtained legally, most likely not, were piled on the walls. More of her men stood about, watching the streets through the windows, hands on gun butts or knife hilts. Odren, she told her first mate, open the safe and take everything worth having. The key is in his pocket.

Aye, Captain. Odren ambled back into the office.

She glanced at one of her men. Pasterak.

A chubby fellow with a shaved head and neck beard looked up by a window. Yes?

Did you bring that chopper?

Pasterak pulled a weapon that looked like a cross between a cutlass and butcher's cleaver. Always, Cap'n!

Good. Head in there and cut off Galdan's head. We'll need it for the bounty.

Pasterak paled at the prospect, but didn't protest. He followed Odren into the office.

A few minutes later, both men returned, Odren with a sack that clinked in a very appealing way, Pasterak gingerly holding a damp cloth-wrapped bundle that left a trail of red drops on the ground.

A good haul, Captain. Odrenn shook the bag. Pity we can't come back here again.

You've been in the game as long as Galdan, you die by ball or blade. If it wasn't us collecting the bounty, it would be someone else. Raina looked at Pasterak. Pack that in salt when we get to the ship. The old bat wants to see his face when she spits on it.

Is that all she wants?

The human heart is a dark place when it comes to vengeance. Back to the ship, men, it's two weeks sail to Tbammer.

Raina and her men headed for the door. As they did, Odren stopped by a cork board hanging nearby. Tacked on it were sheaves of bounty notices, wanted posters, reward offers and more, anything and everything that someone whose living depended on the existence of fugitives and need to find them might be interested in.

Captain, he said. You should have a look.

At what?

Wanted posters.

I've seen them,

Not like this, you ain't.

Raina came up to the board and read what was on offer. Then she plucked away one notice. Then another, and another. Greedy eyes drank in what they said.

A REWARD IS POSTED FOR THE LIVE CAPTURE OF HIM AND ANY ASSOCIATES...

WANTED FOR MULTIPLE OFFENSES, INCLUDING BUT NO LIMITED TO, PIRACY, BRIGANDAGE, ARSON AND GENERAL MAYHEM...

FOR GRIEVOUS HARM INFLICTED ON THE ARCANISTS OF WENNATA...

...THEFT FROM HIS HIGHNESS THE GRAND PRINCE OF TASEVANYA...

ARSON AND ASSAULT ON THE CITY OF IREMNIK...

ESPIONAGE AND DAMAGE INFLICTED ON THE STATE PROPERTY OF THE UKUTEK UNION...

...FOR THESE CRIMES, A REWARD OF TEN THOUSAND GOLD PIECES...

...FIFTY THOUSAND IF DELIVERED ALIVE...

AN ADDITIONAL TWENTY THOUSAND FOR EACH OF HIS COMPANIONS BROUGHT IN WITH HIM...

FOR THE SUCCESSFUL ARREST AND CAPTURE OF GAEBREL HAARN...

...WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE...

GAEBREL Haarn...

Gaebrel Haarn, she whispered. Who are you?

Who is this man? Odren asked, impressed at the sheer level of criminality listed before him.

Someone in a great deal of trouble, said Raina. Then she saw something at the bottom of a notice.

BELIEVED TO BE HEADED IN THE DIRECTION OF MARAEA, POSSIBLY TO ONE OF THE WORLDS CIRCLING SEFIIR.

Back to the ship, she ordered. We hand over Galdan's head to the widow, and then we go after this miscreant.

As you say.

They left Galdan's office and went through the quiet nighttime streets of the town. As they went, Raina glanced back down at the notices, amazed at the sheer amount of trouble this fellow had managed to cause.

You're mine, she thought, a smile curving her lips.

Chapter One

Near the center of this Fallen Universe are two Suns. Their names are Maraea and Fhirial.

Around Maraea there is a gas giant. This world is known as Sefiir.

Orbiting Sefiir are many moons. One of them is a greenish brown orb named Ygul.

On this day (which in the endless dark gray of the Empyrean is more a mark of reference than anything else) a trickle of ships traversed the space around Ygul. Some were here on legitimate business, others for more nefarious purposes. All of them avoided the giant hunks of orbiting wreckage drifting above Ygul, remnants of ancient fortresses and even cities that once circled about the moon.

Once the Empyrean above Ygul swarmed with ships from countless worlds across the system. Once those stones were more than ruined memories of a past few bothered to remember. The men who hauled them up from the surface, the masons and carvers were laid and shaped them in the void, the great lords who ordered their emplacement in the first place, all believed that the works of their hands would last for an eternity, that men would look on them and bow their heads in respect. Now pieces of masonry slowly turned, buffeted by the celestial winds, the solemn faces carved into their sides tall as six men laid end to end, looking upon the universe with eternal melancholy.

Among the ships threading their way through the orbiting ruins was a small, somewhat battered cutter with absurdly large sails. A thick layer of Celestial dust and strands of moss dangling from the hull suggested this was the terminus of a long voyage. Painted along the prow was the word SPARROW. The men hanging from her sails had the look of experienced sailors who'd seen more in a year than most would in a lifetime.

No one came up to greet them. No customs boats had lifted off Ygul in three hundred years. The surface that passed below the keel was green from jungle and forest and plain, with a handful of small oceans that from here looked more like over-sized lakes. When they crossed the terminator into the night side, only a handful of pinpricks below gave signs of settlements large enough to be seen from orbit. Ygul was a fallen world, living in the wreckage of her past.

The Sparrow crossed back to the day side. Sails were pulled in and she made her descent, headed towards a long twisting river cutting through the land like a bright ribbon. The gray Empyrean vanished, replaced by a blue sky that had a faint violet tint to it. There was a sense of unease that came with the wind, as if Ygul itself was tensing for something, a storm about to break, a blow about to hit.

A settlement of moderate size sat about halfway up the river. A handful of ships were parked on a stubby field outside the dilapidated walls. Ruins stretched beyond it, poking up through farmers fields and then swallowed up by the jungle beyond. It seemed as good a place as any to land.

The name of this place is Cagu. Morrec Dheann swept his hand towards the city walls. It's known better days.

I wouldn't have guessed. Gaebrel Haarn stood by him on the ship's prow. He placed a spyglass to his eye and focused on the lone gate in and out of the place. The walls of the town looked formidable. Place like this could stand a siege for a while.

Such things are needed on Ygul. Morrec slapped a hand against the back of his neck. He was a broad, barrel chested fellow with blond hair and a fair complexion that was turning beet red in the warmth. They were somewhere near Ygul's equator, though from what they saw on the descent even the upper latitudes would feel like a steam cooker. Morrec hailed from the northerly reaches of a more temperate world, and was visibly suffering in the heat. Suns and Spirits! That creature bit me! If I get a fever from this, Gaebrel, I will blame you.

The Godhead is on your side, Morrec. Isn't that what you always say?

He is on the side of the righteous. And considering the company I keep these days...

Gaebrel ignored his grumbling and turned the 'glass to the rest of the town. Unlike Morrec he was enjoying the heat. He was a tall, lean fellow with olive skin, dark hair and a ready grin. A lifetime of wandering had left him with a tolerance for anything from frigid cold to blistering heat, and after the chill winds of the open Empyrean he found the warmth of Ygul comforting.

Are the others done stowing the ship? he asked, lowering the spyglass.

Yes. And they're asking why we came to this miserable excuse for a world.

Same reason I told them when we left Laecynna. Trade, wealth and all that comes with it.

We had all that and more on Laecynna.

Gaebrel sighed. It was that bloody argument again. Morrec, you were the first to say we should leave, for reasons that to mine eyes seemed ridiculous...

My reasons are my own. And when we left Laecynna, I assumed we'd be headed to one of the other worlds circling Olysi, not raising sail and headed for the the Bright Lands.

Ygul is the source of the rarest steel in the universe. One small box of ingots will make all six of us wealthy beyond the dreams of men.

Assuming we can get any, at a reasonable price.

Now you sound like Pohtoli.

On occasion he does make sense.

If we stayed, Morrec, we'd likely be dead by now. He still hunts for us.

Yes, and let’s ask ourselves why that is. Morrec paused for a moment. You still haven't told the others.

I will, at the right time.

Which will be by dawn tomorrow.

Are you threatening me, Morrec? Your Captain? Gaebrel glared at his shipmate, who looked back unfazed.

We've followed you this far, no questions asked. But the others grow suspicious. The Neverborn still hunt us. And now you bring us to a world that's been trapped in a dark age for centuries. They deserve to know, Gaebrel.

Gaebrel nodded. Dawn tomorrow.

Either you tell them, or I will.

Then I'd best find some sugar to sweeten that bitter pill. Get the lads together. I think – Cagu is it? – is worth visiting.

The path from the shipfield to the town went past numerous ruins. Statues with shattered arms and noses rose up from beds of weeds, the local style one that favored exaggerated features, mouths full of teeth and bodies with multiple sets of limbs. A hundred yards from the stone wall was a series of white stone tablets that rose from the ground in an arrow-straight line, each depicting some ancient scene. One showed armies of men in outrageously stylized armor that would have been fatally impractical in actual battle, fighting enemies barely one step up from savagery. Next to it was a depiction of the spoils of victory and horror of defeat – men and women, presumably from the losing side, being led up to the slave block. The artist's chisel spared no detail in showing their despair...nor in displaying the muscles of the male captives and the curves of the female, driving home yet again the power of their masters to make use of both.

More tablets showed similar scenes. Save for the last set, depicting yet another battle scene against another set of primitive barbarians...yet instead of tall warriors striking them down, only a single figure stood in combat against them, man shaped, rising above them like a mountain, the tallest of the enemy only coming up to his ankle. His face was shaped like a grimacing three-eyed demon, from which fire and lightning vomited forth.

Some sort of god, perhaps? Gaebrel eagerly moved onto the next tablet, only to find a shattered stump rising a few inches from the ground. The reason for this was straight ahead – the stones used to build the wall around Cagu were scavenged from the surrounding ruins. Bare undressed blocks sat next to polished fragments of bas-reliefs, the proud heads of warriors and kings now spending eternity broken in half and upside down. Likely the locals figured keeping their families safe from raiders and war bands rated above preserving what was left of their imperial past.

Ygul...nowadays it was a backwater, its only claim to the greater attention of the Universe being the unique steel produced by a single mine on its surface. But four hundred years ago this ruined world was the heart of the Dominion of Gulgarram, that held all the moons of Sefiir in an iron grip. The most powerful state in the Maraea system, its influence extended even to other Suns. The town they were approaching was once a mighty city, swollen with the wealth of empire, as were countless others scattered across this moon.

Until the Dominion fell, as all empires did in the end. Gaebrel wasn't too sure as to the causes. Morrec likely could have told him, but at the moment Gaebrel had little wish to speak with the man.

What in Seven Hells are we doing here? Pohtoli asked, looking with distaste at the approaching town.

Trade, business, the usual, came Gaebrel's response. We sell, they buy, you know how it goes...

And what will they pay us with? Mud?

Even the lowliest of places will have someone with money to spend.

I doubt they will spend it on us. Pohtoli shook his head. He was an aspiring merchant prince in a former life, and his mercantile instincts remained sharp. We have a hold full of fine manufactured goods from Samersate, the kind rich men on civilized worlds will pay a premium for. I doubt this entire town has enough coin to pay for just one.

And if they did, they'd hold the cash to buy off the next mob of brigands coming over the horizon. Gerel spoke up. He was a tall, black-skinned warrior from the Doran system, who kept both hands on the twin scimitars at his side. His head was freshly shaved and gleamed in the daylight, though the three weeks worth of beard on his face