The Guardians of Lost Time

THE GUARDIANS OF LOST TIME ORDER OF THE BLACK SUN BOOK 48 PRESTON WLILIAM CHILD CONTENTS Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Epilogue Copyright © 2023 by Preston William Child All rights reserved. No part of this publication might be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. PROLOGUE THE THOUSAND SPEARS They were going to conquer the known world and even the unknown world too. No one had any doubts about that as they marched toward battle. Their spears were held at their sides, the tips of the blades high above as they continued to move forward in formation. Those spears were the tools of change, the instruments of their intent to change everything. So far, they were succeeding—and it didn’t seem like they were going to be stopped. The gods themselves knew to stand aside and make way for their approach toward destiny. Aegus was a young soldier in the infantry, but he made sure to carry his sarissa firmly by his side, keeping it straight so that the spear’s tip shone in the sunlight high above his head. He believed in what they were doing and was determined to help make Macedonia’s dream a reality. Every last soldier that was there, the lines of warriors to his right and left as well as the legions behind him, all wanted to keep conquering until there was nothing left to conquer. His friend and fellow soldier, Fotios, marched beside him. The two of them hadn’t seen many battles, but they were eager to make names for themselves. There was no better army to be a part of if they wanted to be part of battles that they could win. Still, there was some lingering anxiety as they marched into every battle, terrified that it would be their last. Fotios stammered beside him, the shaft of his spear shaking wildly in his grip. “I hope we make it through this one.” “We made it through the last two,” Aegus said, trying to be reassuring. His friend wouldn’t be of any help if he went into battle filled with such dread. “So this one should be no different.” Aegus didn’t really believe his own words. He had seen so many of their comrades fall around him in the first two battles that they fought in. Any one of those men could have so easily been him; if he had been standing a few feet in another direction, if he had faced a more dangerous opponent, or if he hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid the arrows that rained down on them. In the thick of those battles, any single little moment could be the last. He just hoped that his luck would continue to hold. He didn’t want to die, not until he had a chance to see the future that they were trying to create. “We will make it through,” Aegus said, mustering all of his courage and confidence. He hoped that he could transfer his optimism to his comrade. They both needed to be at their best to watch each other’s backs and to survive to see another day. “I know we will. They say that the king will be joining us on the battlefield today. With him at our side, victory is assured.” “The king will be here?” “He no doubt already is.” Almost as if the gods themselves were listening, everyone fell to attention as a rider strode past and reached the front of the army. Alexander himself, their king, rode out in front of them, his helmet held at his side so everyone could see his face. He was a young man, younger than most people would probably expect him to be, but his soldiers knew that his youth was not a detriment at all to his abilities. In fact, it was comforting to think that he still might have so many years to keep leading them toward further victories, much longer than many generals could potentially have. He was not some child. There was wisdom and genius inside of that mind, a knowledge that was far greater than his age. Alexander liked to be part of the battle, to be leading his armies from the front instead of from atop some nearby hill like many commanders did. Some of his inner circle thought that it was too dangerous for him to continue to do that as his campaign grew more and more vast. He had enemies all over the known world, so perhaps they were right, but Alexander wouldn’t hear of it. He continued to be adamant that he was going to continue to guide his men toward victory personally, where they could see his face and he could see theirs. It helped bind them together, to feel like they knew him as they held the spears that he used to such devastating effect. Alexander always looked brilliant as his horse paced before the rows of his armies. The king glanced up at the tall spears reaching up toward the clouds and smiled at the sight of them before his gaze dropped to the men holding those spears. Those were the people that he really treasured. He knew that those pikes in their