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Back The Lost Books Save as PDF
Chapters (132)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. CHOSEN: LOST BOOK 1
  3. BEGINNINGS
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. INFIDEL: LOST BOOK 2
  35. BEGINNINGS
  36. ONE
  37. TWO
  38. THREE
  39. FOUR
  40. FIVE
  41. SIX
  42. SEVEN
  43. EIGHT
  44. NINE
  45. TEN
  46. ELEVEN
  47. TWELVE
  48. THIRTEEN
  49. FOURTEEN
  50. FIFTEEN
  51. SIXTEEN
  52. SEVENTEEN
  53. EIGHTEEN
  54. NINETEEN
  55. TWENTY
  56. TWENTY-ONE
  57. TWENTY-TWO
  58. TWENTY-THREE
  59. TWENTY-FOUR
  60. TWENTY-FIVE
  61. TWENTY-SIX
  62. TWENTY-SEVEN
  63. RENEGADE: LOST BOOK 3
  64. BEGINNINGS
  65. ONE
  66. TWO
  67. THREE
  68. FOUR
  69. FIVE
  70. SIX
  71. SEVEN
  72. EIGHT
  73. NINE
  74. TEN
  75. ELEVEN
  76. TWELVE
  77. THIRTEEN
  78. FOURTEEN
  79. FIFTEEN
  80. SIXTEEN
  81. SEVENTEEN
  82. EIGHTEEN
  83. NINETEEN
  84. TWENTY
  85. TWENTY-ONE
  86. TWENTY-TWO
  87. TWENTY-THREE
  88. TWENTY-FOUR
  89. TWENTY-FIVE
  90. TWENTY-SIX
  91. TWENTY-SEVEN
  92. TWENTY-EIGHT
  93. TWENTY-NINE
  94. THIRTY
  95. THIRTY-ONE
  96. THIRTY-TWO
  97. THIRTY-THREE
  98. THIRTY-FOUR
  99. THIRTY-FIVE
  100. THIRTY-SIX
  101. THIRTY-SEVEN
  102. CHAOS: LOST BOOK 4
  103. BEGINNINGS
  104. ONE
  105. TWO
  106. THREE
  107. FOUR
  108. FIVE
  109. SIX
  110. SEVEN
  111. EIGHT
  112. NINE
  113. TEN
  114. ELEVEN
  115. TWELVE
  116. THIRTEEN
  117. FOURTEEN
  118. FIFTEEN
  119. SIXTEEN
  120. SEVENTEEN
  121. EIGHTEEN
  122. NINETEEN
  123. TWENTY
  124. TWENTY-ONE
  125. TWENTY-TWO
  126. TWENTY-THREE
  127. TWENTY-FOUR
  128. TWENTY-FIVE
  129. TWENTY-SIX
  130. TWENTY-SEVEN
  131. TWENTY-EIGHT
  132. TWENTY-NINE

The road he stood on was rock hard, perfectly formed from a black substance that looked to have been melted and laid down in one long strip. But more stunning than this finely crafted road were the buggies that traveled on top of it. Painted in different colors with black wheels to roll over the road, they moved without horses, without any beast pulling or pushing. With suhupow and suhupow alone.

Billos felt like a child of wonder more than a warrior who’d trained his whole life to kill the Horde. What would Darsal say of Paradise? He strode down the yellow dash in the middle of the road, not bothering to wipe the crooked grin from his mouth.

Two things were now clear to him. No, three things: First, he’d made the right choice to enter the Book of History, which had, if he wasn’t mistaken, taken him into history itself. Second, the mission was really about Billos’s helping Marsuvees Black find the Books of History, which were invisible to all but him here in the histories. And third, this critical mission depended on his skill, his intelligence, his craftiness—his ability to defeat the enemy and find what no other man could find.

It’s your turn to follow me into hell, Johnis. Shut your flapper, Scrapper, and stay close behind. Not a peep, because I don’t have time to babysit every time you cry out in fear. You too, Silvie.

Darsal, step up here by my side. It’s our turn. It’s our turn to trip, baby.

A thought occurred to him: he wasn’t dressed for the occasion. This brown tunic he’d worn from Middle Forest felt out of place. Ahead a man dressed in blue slacks and a brown hat swept dust from the sidewalk, paying him no mind. The establishment behind him had a large red sign that read SMITHER’S BARBEQUE.

On a whim, Billos snapped his fingers. The gun materialized in his hand. He shoved it into his pocket, thought of a hat, touched his head, and snapped again.

Shade covered his head. He pulled off a black, broad-rimmed hat that looked just like the one worn by Marsuvees Black. Replacing the hat, he snapped his fingers again and was immediately rewarded with black pants and a black trench coat. He was now suited for battle in the histories.

Two men sat on a bench next to the worker who swept the sidewalk. One of the buggies, a red one, rolled past him on four black wheels, purring as it swished by. It belched at him angrily, the sound of a goose honking. Billos stepped to one side and placed his hand on the gun, which was now tucked in his belt. But the machine didn’t attack.