Fireweaver Read online

  "That wasn't the path I had in mind," Sondir said.

  "Then what was your plan?"

  Sondir drummed his fingers on the desk. "I'm sorry to say I didn't have one. Not yet."

  "Then we'll go with my plan," Faina said. "I can join the Church as an acolyte. Once I'm inside, I can figure out what they're hiding and how I might get the key from the High Priest." She would also have the chance to see Kadin again. Yes, some within the temple knew who she was, but those who did would not turn her in. She'd be safe, or at least somewhat safe.

  "Are you sure about this?" Sondir asked.

  Faina swallowed against the dryness in her throat. "Yes, I'm sure."

  * * * * *

  Kadin sat on the floor in the Sun Chamber. To some, it might have looked like he was praying, but he wasn't sure he believed in Aralea. Why should he pray to her when she'd never done anything to help him?

  He wondered if he truly believed what he'd told Deril. Had he wanted to die in that moment? In truth, he wasn't sure he ever had. His instincts had prompted him to take action when Deril had entered the prison, needing his help.

  It was too much to sort through, and thinking about these things made Kadin feel more depressed than ever. If he became too depressed, he'd lose all confidence.

  With a deep sigh, he got to his feet, then walked out of the Sun Chamber.

  The Sun Guard at the door smiled at him. "Sunlord."

  Kadin tried to return the smile, but it felt forced. Shaking his head, he made his way down the corridors, warmed by the light of Sunlamps. It was strange to live in a place that felt so warm. Sometimes, he found himself wiping sweat from his face. It was almost too warm.

  The Sun Guard had prepared quarters for him here in the temple, and they sat next to Deril's quarters. Kadin wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked Deril, but at the same time, he didn't want to feel like Deril was constantly watching him. Judging him.

  Everyone here was too interested in him. Yes, he was a Sunlord, but did they have to hover so close, staring at him, expecting great things from him? The more he saw their glances, the more he felt the pressure of what he had to do.

  Kadin didn't want to return to his chambers. Instead, he took a left down a passage he'd never taken before. He didn't care where he was going. He felt like exploring.

  The corridors eventually led him to a chamber filled with dozens of pews. He'd been to a small church back home, but it was nothing compared to this place. Sunlamps adorned all the walls, bathing everything in golden light. The tan-colored stone looked warm and inviting. At the chamber's far end, a man was sitting alone at one of the pews.

  Kadin stepped softly down the central walkway, across red carpeting—a rare luxury he'd never seen in his life. It appeared that the Church lived in excess while the Lightless starved.

  When Kadin reached the end of the walkway, the man in the pew looked up. "What brings you to the chapel, Sunlord?"

  Kadin still couldn’t believe people referred to him by that title. "I'm not really sure. I was just walking and felt like stepping into this place."

  "Perhaps it was the guiding hand of Aralea."

  "I don't think I b—I mean, yes, it might have been."

  The man smiled faintly. "You were going to say you don’t think you believe in Aralea."

  Kadin settled down on the pew. "Yes, I suppose I was."

  "It's all right to feel doubts." The man brushed away a few wrinkles in his golden robes. "When we don't see the hand of Aralea in our lives, it is easy to falter in our beliefs."

  "My priests back home always made it sound like a horrible crime to doubt Aralea."

  "I have heard of priests like that," the man said. "In my mind, they are not proper priests of Aralea. We should guide people toward her when they feel doubts. The last thing we want to do is drive people away."

  Kadin scooted a bit closer to the man, feeling surprisingly comfortable around him. The man was on the young side, maybe fifteen years older than Kadin, with dark hair and a kind expression. He wore the robes of a priest, but priests were usually older.

  "Are you a priest?" Kadin asked.

  "Yes, I am Father Alvin."

  "You look too young to be a priest."

  "I have only been a priest for a few months. I still have much to learn." He smiled at Kadin, a gesture that put Kadin at ease. "And you look troubled."

  "I suppose you could say that."

  "What is bothering you? Perhaps I can help."

  "I'm no good at being a Sunlord. I try every day. I pray to Aralea. But no matter what I do, I can barely sustain the sun at all. It makes me wonder if I was never meant to be a Sunlord, if my life growing up Lightless will make it impossible for me."

  Father Alvin nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I sense that something else is bothering you. Something deeper."

  "I'm a bad person."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I've killed people. I wanted to kill them."

  "And do you wish you hadn't killed them?"

  Kadin was surprised to hear no condemnation in Father Alvin's patient voice. "I-I don't know. At the time, I wanted to do it, but now I look back and wonder how I became such a monster. They were bad people, but I shouldn't have killed them."

  Father Alvin leaned closer, putting his hands over Kadin's. "When I look into your eyes, I do not see a bad person. I see a young man who has lived a harsh life and made some poor decisions. But you regret those decisions. That is the first step toward becoming a better person."

  "And do you think I'll improve as a Sunlord if I accept what I did?"

  "It's possible. I must admit I don't know much about how to improve in that respect."

  "Deril always tells me about Sunweaving theory," Kadin said. "But whenever someone tries to explain it to me, it doesn't make much sense." He took a breath. "I think I want to learn to read. Never got the chance when I was younger. No one in my family knows how."

  "I can help you with that much."

  Footsteps sounded from the entrance to the chapel. Kadin turned, expecting to find someone looking for him, but instead it was the last person he expected. His mouth fell open before he remembered to close it.

  "Faina?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

  "I've come to join the Church."

  Kadin hadn't expected that answer. "But you're a F—I mean, why would you want to join the Church. I didn't think you were much of a believer."

  His heart pounded a sudden drumbeat. Had Father Alvin caught his slip? Kadin didn't know if he could trust the man with such secrets. Yes, Father Alvin seemed a trustworthy man, but he was also a priest of Aralea. Surely he believed Fireweavers were evil.

  Father Alvin cast a curious glance at Kadin, then returned his gaze to Faina.

  "I inquired about joining the Church," Faina said, "and they told me to seek out a young priest named Father Alvin. They said he'd be here in the chapel."

  "I am Father Alvin, and I am in need of an acolyte. As I am the youngest priest in the temple, I haven't found anyone yet. Do you think you can assist me?"

  Faina looked suddenly pale. "Yes, I think so."

  "Can you read and write?"

  Faina nodded. She'd never told Kadin she could read and write. He supposed she'd learned before her parents were killed.

  "Do you believe in Aralea?'" asked Father Alvin.

  "Of course I do," Faina said, but she didn't quite meet the priest's gaze.

  Father Alvin tilted his head to the side, as if considering her answer. "I am not sure you answered that last question truthfully. If you aren't a consistent believer, why should we, the Church, accept you into our ranks?"

  Kadin turned to him. "But didn't you just tell me that the Church should support those who are struggling with their faith?"

  "Yes, I did say that."

  "I want to have stronger faith," Faina said. "I think being part of the Church can help me with that." This time, she did meet Father Alvin's gaze. There was some t
ruth in what she'd said.

  "Very well," the priest said. "Are you a Sunweaver?"

  "Yes," Faina responded immediately.

  Father Alvin raised an eyebrow. "All right, you need to cast Red."

  "What does this have to do with becoming an acolyte?" Faina asked.

  "It is a simple test to determine if you're a Sunweaver or Fireweaver." He smiled disarmingly. "You do realize we can't risk Fireweavers entering our ranks?"

  Kadin's stomach swirled. He didn't know how to escape this situation. If Faina cast Red, Father Alvin would discover she was a Fireweaver. If she refused, she would still reveal that she was a Fireweaver. There was no other reason to refuse such a simple and harmless test.

  Out of curiosity, Kadin wove Orange and Yellow. He saw the bright glow around her indicating she was a Fireweaver. It still struck him as strange that he could see these heat fields even when a person wasn't using their magic.

  He turned to look at Father Alvin.

  And saw the same glow around him. In fact, it was the brightest glow he'd ever seen.

  "You can trust him," Kadin said, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake. "Go ahead and cast Red."

  Faina hesitated a moment, but then she did as instructed. Kadin prayed he hadn't misread the heat field. There was an obvious difference between Sunweavers and Fireweaver, so surely he hadn't made a mistake. Still, his heart was pounding.

  When Faina cast Red, the glow became even brighter.

  Father Alvin nodded slowly. "Ah, just as I suspected."

  Faina became even paler.

  "Your secret is safe with me," Father Alvin said. "Welcome to the Church."

  Chapter 16: The Sunweaver Council

  Deril's chest felt tight as he waited outside the Council Chamber. He'd become a member of the Sunweaver Council, thanks to Sondir's sponsorship. That was the easy part. Now Deril had to find a way to get the key from High Councilor Jarek.

  And Deril had to convince the other councilors to change their views on Fireweavers.

  He would have preferred to fight Halarik.

  Sondir put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Deril. It's not that bad."

  They stepped through the large stone doors together. The other councilors had already gathered around the long stone table. There were about thirty councilors in all, mostly people from some of the most influential Sunweaver families. Normally, many of the councilors didn't show up, but since the nation was facing a crisis, everyone was in attendance.

  Heart pounding, Deril took a seat next to Sondir, in a cushioned chair. The rest of the councilors spoke in low voices. Deril recognized many of them. Some offered greetings, which Deril returned halfheartedly. He was too nervous to say anything more.

  At last, High Councilor Jarek stepped into the chamber. He took a seat at the far end of the table, then banged a gavel on the table. The room fell silent.

  Jarek faced the other councilors, his expression grim. "We are meeting today to discuss the threat we face from those we have called the Turned. At first, I didn't believe the reports I was receiving, but more and more of them are coming in—from trusted Sun Guard commanders, no less. This plague is spreading toward Hyrandel. Already, it has sent our outlying regions into a state of chaos. Many Lightless have died."

  Gazing across the table, Deril noted a distinct lack of concern about this last sentence.

  "And how many Sunweavers have died?" asked Denzra, a middle-aged woman who had been on the council for more than ten years.

  "Casualties have been low among Sunweavers," Jarek said.

  "Then perhaps this is not a grave concern," Denzra said. "We all know we have too many Lightless to begin with. Perhaps this plague is meant to thin the herd."

  Deril gritted his teeth, holding in an angry retort. Attitudes like hers were common among the councilors. Many of them considered the Lightless to be little more than animals. Deril's parents had never let him develop those beliefs.

  High Priest Teravin cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps this plague is a sign from Aralea. Clearly, these Lightless must have done something wrong to be turned into mindless Fireweavers. We should let them die. We should order the Sun Guard to spare no one."

  Deril could keep silent no longer. "The Lightless are still our people. It is our duty to protect them. These people are not Fireweavers. This is not a sign from Aralea. Halarik did this."

  Teravin turned to him, his expression stern. "And do you have proof of this?"

  Deril took a deep breath, preparing to launch into his tale. He couldn't reveal all the specifics of what he'd done to rescue his father, but the members of the Sunweaver Council did know the basics of what had transpired.

  "When I rescued my father," Deril said, "Halarik briefly returned. In that time, he destroyed Atarin's palace. I also believe he created this plague of the Turned. The timing is too perfect for it to be mere coincidence."

  "Perhaps," Teravin said. "But you still have no proof."

  Deril fought to control his expression. "That doesn't matter. The Lightless are still our people. What does it say about us if we leave them to die? When that plague reaches Hyrandel, thousands of people will die. There will be complete chaos. We can't let that happen."

  Teravin scowled at him. "And what do you propose we do?"

  "It is my belief that this plague came from one of the Lost Weaves, which means that the only way to undo it is to use one of the Lost Weaves. We need to enter the Vault."

  Deril's stomach churned. Had he tried for too much too quickly?

  "That is not going to happen," Teravin said. "Such things are kept secret for a reason."

  Heat rose to Deril's face. "The fate of our world is at stake."

  "It doesn't matter. Aralea ordered us to protect this knowledge. I would suggest you abandon this line of questioning. You are risking being branded a heretic."

  Deril wanted to respond, but he could see the High Priest's simmering anger. It was not the time to antagonize him. The direct approach would not work. Deril would have to find another way to access that knowledge. He could not allow this plague to reach Hyrandel.

  Jarek banged his gavel on the table. The echoing sound brought everyone to silence.

  "This argument is a diversion. We still need to decide what we are going to do to address this problem. Even if only a small number of the Lightless are becoming Fireweavers, we are still going to face a crisis when this plague reaches Hyrandel." He turned his gaze to Deril. "We all respect what you did in rescuing your father and preventing Halarik's return, but we have to abide by the High Priest's decision. We have no power to overrule him."

  High Priest Teravin's gaze remained stern. "Deril, I've heard rumors that you enlisted the help of Fireweavers in this mission of yours. Is there any truth to these rumors?"

  A shiver ran down Deril's spine. "This is not the time or place for this discussion."

  "In other words," Teravin said, "the answer is yes."

  Deril glared at him. "I said no such thing."

  "Deril is right," Jarek said. "This is not the time or place for such a discussion."

  The High Priest relented, but Deril couldn't relax. He'd never cared much for Teravin. Now Deril could see the coldness in the man's eyes. There was no doubt that he wanted Deril dead. Deril had no idea what he'd done to offend the man so deeply. Or was Deril simply a threat to the myths the Church perpetuated?

  Jarek surveyed the people assembled at the table. His expression was stern, and a few wrinkles lined his clean-shaven face. "Does anyone have an actual idea of what to do?"

  "We have to control the damage," said Beril, the oldest man on the Council. He had to be at least eighty years old. Few people in Tarileth lived that long, even among Sunweavers.

  Jarek nodded, his expression discerning. "Any suggestions?"

  "From what I've heard," Beril said, "these newly-created Fireweavers are not all that powerful. We might be able to get at least some of them into prisons, where we'll use a Yellow/Blue weave to
shield ourselves from their powers. That should give us time to figure out how to stop this. If it started just now, then there must be some way to reverse the process."

  There is, Deril thought. It's called the Lost Weaves. But he wasn't sure about that. In truth, he was guessing that the Lost Weaves would help. A darker possibility existed. What if Deril made all kinds of sacrifices to find the Lost Weaves and they wouldn't help at all?

  No. He couldn't think about that. He had to hold out hope.

  His thoughts turned to Kadin's sister. Though Deril had never met the woman, he felt as if she were family as well, and he knew Kadin would spiral into depression if she died.

  Deril shivered. She might be dead already.

  Across the table, Captain Hanir cleared his throat. He had been silent so far, and Deril had almost forgotten he was there.

  "I can mobilize the Sun Guard and create some room in the prisons. I can't guarantee we'll take every one of the Turned without a fight, though. Some will die."

  Deril understood that this would not be an easy task, and he appreciated the fact that Captain Hanir didn't see the Turned as unimportant. It was hard to comprehend the arrogance of some members of the Sunweaver Council. Was this the dark truth behind Sunweaver society? Deril had always known on some level that many Sunweavers believed themselves superior, but recent events had shown him just how prevalent these attitudes were.

  "For the moment," Jarek said, "I think we'll have to defer to Captain Hanir's judgment. There is little more to discuss on this matter, so I think it's time we discussed other topics."

  Deril's mind drifted during the rest of the council meeting. He would have liked to discuss relations between Sunweavers and Fireweavers, but he'd already risked too much. Whenever he glanced at Teravin, he saw hatred in the man's expression.

  The High Priest was a dangerous man.

  When the meeting concluded, High Councilor Jarek asked Deril to speak with him privately. Deril shared nervous glances with Sondir and Captain Hanir. They both nodded.

  "He's a decent man," Sondir whispered.

  Deril walked the length of the room, his stomach churning. When he reached Jarek, the High Councilor motioned for him to follow. They retreated into a smaller room at the far end of the council chamber. The room contained a wooden desk and a couple of chairs.