Order of the Black Sun Box Set 11 Read online

  Order of the Black Sun

  Books 31 - 33

  Preston William Child

  Contents

  The Tomb of Genghis Khan

  Operation Rubicon

  Poseidon’s Secret

  The Tomb of Genghis Khan

  1

  THE CONQUEROR'S GRAVE

  Genghis Khan aimed to take over the entire world—but now he was dead. Therefore, all of those grand strategies, those decisive victories might have been for nothing now. Great Khan’s empire might crumble without him, and there was a foreboding sense from all of his armies, his slaves, and his most devoted followers, that it was a real possibility. But before they could worry about the possible infighting or confusion, they had to lay their nearly unstoppable leader to rest.

  Batu had been enslaved by the Mongolian Empire as Genghis Khan had stormed through and assaulted Batu’s village. Batu had watched the slaughtering of so many of his loved ones by the Mongolian forces, but for some inexplicable reason, he had survived. In sum, all of Batu’s freedoms had been stripped away, and he was forced to do whatever they wished to avoid suffering a bloody death for any disobedience.

  This task was no different. Batu was specifically chosen by some of Genghis Khan's closest personal guard to accompany dozens of slaves to a remote location that would serve as the Great Khan's burial place. They were told to not speak of this secretive mission. They were all dragged out from their camps in the dead of night to prepare the revered burial site.

  Batu was accustomed to mistreatment and complied without question. There was no point trying to fight back against them, even as they yanked him from his tent and tossed him into the lewd line with the other slaves. Hopefully, if the Mongolian Empire fell apart without their infamous leader, their slaves would be able to slip away in all of the confusion. All Batu had to do was survive and make it to the next day—that was all that mattered to him. He didn't want to be dead and being prepared for burial like Genghis Khan—then again, no one would be making a grave for Batu. He’d probably be left to rot wherever his corpse randomly fell.

  The journey was long and treacherous. The burial place would be naturally well protected due to the harsh environments that surrounded it. Very few would be able to access it; and even then, many perished along the way. Over ten fellow slaves had died from plunging off cliffs or from the sheer exhaustion of the tedious trek.

  The body of the Great Khan was covered in silken cloth and draped over the back of his coveted horse. His personal guard walked in front of the steed, leading it along toward where Genghis Khan would be settled to eternal rest.

  Batu had no idea when they’d reach their destination, but Batu knew that it would be even strenuous work to prepare the royal burial site. This was far from an easy task, but he supposed that it made sense, given the sheer importance of it.

  They journeyed through a series of mountains until they encountered an enormous plateau in the midst of all of those majestic mountain peaks. The plateau was comprised of flat faces of rock on all sides, making it impossible to ascend. They’d have to climb if they wanted to get up there, and it would be a long trek.

  Batu and the other slaves didn't think they’d have to because there was no way they’d be able to transport the Great Kahn's body up there. Unfortunately, they were all proven wrong when the largest of the personal guards threw the covered corpse of Genghis Khan over his shoulder and tied it to himself with a rope, thus securing their dead leader's body to his back. The guard started climbing as all of the slaves watched in shock as he was actually succeeding in scaling the rocky terrain. They all doubted that they could do it, but soon learned they didn't have a choice but to try as the other guards threatened them forward.

  The slaves did their best as they slowly scaled up the plateau. The rocks weren't very easy to hold onto as many of them were sharp and slippery. It was easy to split your hand open on them, and Batu accidentally sliced himself numerous times on the attempts. Some of his fellow slaves didn't make it as well and plunged from the side of the plateau to their deaths. It was unfortunate, but Batu willed himself to preserver. He wouldn't be like the dead slaves. He refused to die on this bloody cliff.

  After nearly a day's journey on the climb, they eventually reached the top of the plateau where a giant boulder rested. It towered over all of them and the guards all shouted for the caravan to stop. All of the slaves stared up at the great rock, while the guards circled it, and looked around carefully. Batu knew in his gut that this would be it. He was proven right when the guards handed them crude tools for digging and building. Batu immediately got to work with his dreaded tool, not wanting to disappoint his spectators. This boulder would serve as the majestic marker for the grave of the world's greatest leader.

  In retrospect, Batu had always feared the Great Khan's personal guards. They were fierce and deadly warriors that could cut down their enemies with ease. And it wasn't just their foes that they ferociously brutalized. Batu had witnessed how they would punish slaves firsthand, and it usually ended with a dead slave, even for minor offenses. They were impossible to reason with and only answered to the Great Khan. Now that the Great Khan was dead, did they answer to anyone anymore? Or were those violent beasts unrestrained and free to subjugate whoever they wished? Yes, Batu had always feared them, but now more than ever before.

  There was something even scarier about them now, especially the wicked way they were watching the slaves work on the grave, with blank stares like they barely saw them at all and only recognized the labor that was being done. They didn't care how many of their slaves collapsed from thirst, hunger, or sheer exhaustion as long as Genghis Khan's resting place was pleasing for their objectives.

  Batu worked harder than he ever had before, fueled by those guards’ tense stares. He refused to falter in front of them, to give the guards any reason to punish him or worse. He could see that his fellow slaves were thinking similar thoughts as they were all working harder than ever to please their masters. They toiled tirelessly through the next two nights until the tomb met the guards' desires. The guards didn't look pleased, but they never usually did. Still, since they didn't appear angry either, so the workers must have done something right at least.

  The slaves—the ones who had survived the work—stepped aside as the late Khan's former guards thoroughly inspected the burial site. The slaves all waited nervously for a reaction, knowing that some of them could die if any mistakes were found. After what felt like an eternity, the last guard to examine the tomb nodded approvingly to his comrades.

  Batu released the smallest sigh of relief. This had been one of the stranger tasks that he’d been forced to perform since being enslaved by the Mongols. Once again, though, Batu had come out of it still breathing. That was all that mattered—making it to the next day. Survival was all he really cared about, no matter the toll it had on his body and mind.

  Genghis Khan's covered body was lugged into the tomb by four of his personal guards. The sight made the Great Khan's death even more real for everyone present. The man had traveled across so many lands, seen so many places, and left his mark so he wouldn't be forgotten. But now, he was just like the slaves that had died on the journey—a lifeless corpse. The only difference was that Khan had a tomb and they never would. That's what it came down to in the end: one’s burial site was the only thing that separated them from the other deceased in the world.

  The Great Khan’s personal guards all stood in front of them, shoulder to shoulder. None of the slaves expected any compliments or congratulations. They were ready to be ordered to start the long journey back to camp.

  Those orders never came.

  T
he guards brandished their blades as the slaves’ terror escalated higher than ever. The guards’ facial expression revealed it all: the slaves were never going to return to camp. That was never going to be a possibility. This one-way journey was only ever going to end here.

  Batu felt his own urine run down his leg as he turned to run away desperately. Some of his fellow slaves tried to do the same, but the guards were too quick and far better rested. The slaves never stood a chance as the guards cut down most of them in mere moments. The few who survived the initial onslaught didn't get very far before being pounced on as well.

  Batu tried his best to get away, but his legs wouldn't go as fast as he wanted them to excel. They’d carried him too far during this trek and were aching with every step. The rest of his body wouldn't cooperate with him either, not after all his effort into making the Great Khan's tomb. He had absolutely no energy left to use.

  He didn't understand. They’d all done their best. The tomb seemed good enough. Why not let all of them go back to the camp at least? Why waste good workers that had achieved their task? Why butcher your own slaves for no apparent reason?

  One guard jumped in front of him, blocking his futile attempt to escape. Batu didn't want to die. He’d worked too hard to fall like the rest of the workers had. He wouldn't go down screaming or crying. He’d try his best to survive. It was all that mattered.

  Batu tried to fight back and threw a punch that hit his enemy directly in the center of his face. The guard stumbled back and initially looked startled by the blow, no doubt surprised that he was facing any sort of resistance at all. The guard even looked slightly impressed, or just a little amused by Batu's tenacity. Unfortunately, the guard responded with a strike of his own, and his came from his blade, not from his fist.

  The dagger tore diagonally down across Batu's torso, from shoulder to hip. It was a clean swipe; one that warriors like the guards had probably performed countless times in their lives. Batu could only watch helplessly as his frail body was carved into viciously. Batu had no shield to block the blade and no clothes to even try to diminish the damage. There was nothing between the sharp edge of metal and Batu’s flesh. Batu stared down at the wound in shock, then looked back up to the guard who flashed a thin smile of victory. Batu collapsed onto his side. His crimson insides gushed around him on the rocks as his life started seeping away, slowly leaving him. Batu wished he’d been given the chance to do more with his life, to leave some sort of lasting legacy like the Great Khan had. No one would remember Batu's name.

  As Batu’s vision started to grow hazy, he saw the guards stand stoically by Genghis Khan's resting place. They looked calm and resolute with their decision to massacre the slaves. They nodded to one another and Batu just stared, unable to move the rest of his paralyzed body.

  The guards all turned their own daggers on themselves and Batu watched as they all fell. One by one, they pierced their own hearts with their weapons and dropped to the ground alongside the butchered slaves.

  Batu's world grew dark, but one lingering thought passed through his brain before the bitter end.

  That was it then. That was why this task had been done so quietly. The final step of making a resting place for the Great Khan meant also creating their own graves. There would be no one left alive who knew where to find the remains of the world conqueror. No one would ever be able to find the treasured tomb of Genghis Khan.

  2

  A NEW WORLD ORDER

  The Order of the Black Sun had drastically changed, just like David Purdue had hoped. They were no longer a shady secret society of megalomaniacs that wanted to desecrate the past to create some warped and insidious future. They were no longer a brutal and hostile group that would kill anyone that got in the way of their plans. They were no longer the villains they’d been to Purdue for so long.

  Now the Black Sun were cultivators. They were discoverers. They were protectors. They were Purdue's allies, focused on ensuring that the world’s history was safeguarded from being lost or misused. The Order of the Black Sun were the good guys now—at least most of them were.

  It was difficult to completely purge the whole order of the toxic members that held onto the way things used to be. Many of the worst had fled the Black Sun the moment Purdue took charge, but some of the ones he liked least still remained. They were probably hoping to keep close enough to take charge if Purdue ever accidentally swallowed poison, tripped into a knife, or stepped in front of a firing gun. He had to be careful of them, but none of those lingering threats had acted openly hostile toward him; at least not yet. Their attacks were relegated to verbal ones; nothing more than quiet whispers of insubordination that he could handle.

  Since taking control of the secret society, Purdue had spent extensive energy recruiting fresh faces and more suitable minds, hoping that the new blood would outweigh the less agreeable leftovers of the old order. The people he recruited were passionate optimists who knew their history and wanted to keep it protected, just like he always did.

  One of those new recruits, Riley Duda, knocked on Purdue's door and entered with a radiant smile plastered on her face. She’d quickly become one of Purdue's favorites. She was always willing to take on whatever challenge she was presented with, but she never stooped to the lows that the old Black Sun operatives utilized.

  Purdue sat at his desk deep within the Order of the Black Sun's headquarters. He was still getting used to the place and often referred to it as his weekend getaway. His actual home was back in Scotland and had been rebuilt brick by brick thanks to the dying wish of his old butler, Charles. Purdue was extremely thankful for that; otherwise, he’d be stuck in this place all of the time.

  Riley approached and sat at the seat across the table, throwing her legs up onto the desk casually like she always did. Some people might have deemed it as rude, but Purdue thought it was actually a very charming aspect to her. Riley was a mostly carefree individual, and the only thing she seemed to really worry about was the artifacts that she helped find. Most tasks just made her laugh—even the dangerous missions.

  “You look excited as ever,” Purdue said with a smirk. “Are you just in a good mood or do you have something for me today? Something good, aye?”

  “Aye! A wee bit of good news, lassie.” Riley liked to mock Purdue's accent. It was another attribute that was probably annoying to some, but Purdue regarded it as endearing. Being from the United States, Riley's only exposure to Scottish accents was from movies and TV; horrible ones like Mel Gibson from Braveheart. She was well aware of how terrible it was and made sure to lay it on thick for Purdue. She liked to make it sound as stereotypical as possible. “Bagpipes in the loch, aye!”

  Purdue grinned and waited patiently for her to end her performance. Another good quality about Riley Duda was that she knew not to push a joke too far or drag it out for too long. She'd try and get a smile or two from someone and then get down to business.

  “I was just dropping off my latest find in the deep vaults...and let me tell you...it was a good one!”

  The deep vaults were one of the best assets the Order of the Black Sun had at their disposal. They were housed in an extremely secure room that safeguarded all of the collected relics, along with the precious artifacts previously stolen from Purdue before he took control. Now, that vast collection was under his protection, it was hard to imagine anyone being able to take those items from the deep vaults. They were much safer there than his valuables had been when they were stored in the basement of his home.

  “Even Elijah was impressed...and that's saying something,” Riley said, beating around the bush to build up the suspense as much as possible. She was a rather theatrical person, but it in a good way. “I found an old bow that dates back to the Mongolian empire, one of the ones that dominated everyone else back then...”

  Purdue had heard about the importance of bows and arrows to the Mongolian conquest. “They could fire them from horseback with ease, aye. No one else in Asia at the time could co
mpete with that. That's a nice find.”

  It really was a decent find, but it was hardly anything to look so enthusiastic about achieving. There had to be more relics. Based on Riley’s gaze with baited breath, there definitely was.

  “It just got me thinking about the Mongols and especially about Genghis Khan. He's one of the most influential and important figures in history, but...no one knows where the hell he was buried.”

  That was true. There were all kinds of theories about the burial site's location, but none of them had been proven true. Those theories alone were fascinating to learn, and Purdue had read all about them on a rainy Sunday afternoon years ago. Many of those hypotheses came rushing back to him.

  According to legends, Genghis Khan had requested to be buried in an unmarked grave. Historical accounts revealed that tens of thousands of people attended his funeral. However, to avoid anyone knowing where he was buried, Genghis Khan's army then massacred the people who attended the funeral. His army was then killed by Khan's escorts. The guards took Genghis Khan's body to its final resting place that had been built by slaves. The guards murdered the slaves who constructed the tomb; and then, in a final act to conceal the location, the last remaining people to know the truth committed suicide. It had been a vicious chain of death to help conceal the tomb, leaving no one left alive who knew anything about its exact location.

  There was far more speculation about it, too. Some claimed a river had been diverted to flow right over where he was buried, making his resting place impossible to reach. Others argued that horses trampled all over the ground he was buried in and then trees had been planted to cover it. Purdue could understand wanting your grave to be unmarked but going through all of those measures seemed little excessive—but a world conqueror and his forces probably didn't care about excess.