Sunweaver Read online

  She looked away. "It doesn't matter. Trust me on this, all right?"

  "What aren't you telling me?" Deril asked. "It could be important."

  She chewed on her lower lip. "Not here. Come with me."

  Chapter 2: Forbidden Talents

  Rella paced around the caravan, checking that the horses were ready to go. The cold wind swirling in the air hinted at snow. Not what she needed on her first merchant trip alone. Her father had entrusted her with this. She couldn't mess it up.

  "Rella, you need to relax," said her friend Azira. She and Tarell, who was more than a friend, stood by their wagons. The wagons themselves had seen better days. Their wood had become soft and weak after enduring countless bouts of rain, sleet, and snow. In truth, Rella and her father were barely scraping by.

  Yet another reason she couldn't fail.

  She brushed aside a lock of red hair. "You might be able to relax. My father won't blame you if the shipment fails to arrive in Talindel. But I have no such luxury."

  "He won't blame you either," Tarell said. "The merchant trade is not an easy one."

  Holding in her anxious retort, Rella looked away, back toward their three wagons. She would drive one, their Sun Guard Rendir would lead another, and Azira and Tarell would share the third. Rella was grateful for Rendir's protection, but she hated having a Sun Guard along.

  Anyone with the ability to weave Orange and Yellow was dangerous, for Rella was a Fireweaver—a fact she'd kept hidden her whole life. Not even Azira and Tarell knew, and they were her closest friends. People her father trusted like family.

  She couldn't bring herself to trust them, though. Not with this secret.

  Tarell put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close for a quick kiss. "A little good luck for the road," he said with a smile. "You look like you've seen Halarik."

  "I'm only anxious," she said. But sometimes I feel like I see Halarik every day.

  "Don't worry," Tarell said. "You'll do great." He gave her another kiss.

  Why couldn't she tell him her secret? She meant to share the rest of her life with him, so she'd have to let the secret out at some point. Or did she? Tarell and Azira were only Suncasters. They couldn't detect the heat field around her.

  Rendir approached from the front of the caravan—intimidating with his tall frame and golden surcoat, beneath which he wore light chainmail.

  Rella didn't see why they needed Rendir. One Sun Guard, especially a less talented one like Rendir, couldn't stand against Fireweaver bandits. No. He'd only put her at risk.

  He stopped a few feet from her. "We're ready to go on your command."

  "Then let's go," she said. "And pray we don't run across any bandits." The trade route from Anindel to Talindel sat close to the Snow Knife Mountains, which formed the border between Tarileth and the Frozen Lands. Fireweaver bandits frequented the road.

  Rendir put a hand on her shoulder. "Your father wouldn't have trusted you with this if he didn't feel you were ready."

  She pulled away from his touch, feeling sick. This man would kill her if he knew the truth about her. And he had to suspect it. After all, her mother had been a Fireweaver.

  Rella settled into the seat of her wagon, the second in the caravan, and followed Rendir's lead. She trusted Rendir as much as she could any Sun Guard. He'd served her father's business faithfully for years. As long as she kept her powers hidden, he would protect her as well.

  She had to be careful if they encountered bandits. Her father had told her not to risk displaying her abilities unless they faced an emergency. She could exercise only limited control in negating her heat field. When she became too involved in what she was doing, her concentration often lapsed.

  Her stomach churned. She didn't feel ready for this.

  They set out in the morning, moving along the road going west toward Talindel. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves against the beaten road was a soothing sound, one that reminded her of her childhood, a time when she was more carefree. A time when she had her mother.

  Ten years ago, when the Sun Guards discovered her powers, she faced execution like a common criminal—even though she'd done nothing wrong.

  Don't think about that, Rella told herself, fighting to keep her focus on the moment. Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes. She was glad to be riding alone.

  Misty gray light filled the sky. Clouds covered the dim white sun early that afternoon, and light snow followed. Rella wrapped herself tighter in her fur cloak, relieved that the wagons were covered. Azira and Tarell joined her when they stopped to let the horses rest and eat from their supply of feed.

  Early that afternoon, the horses began to act strange. They refused commands and reared up as though there were something dangerous in their path. Rella had spent enough time around horses to know they were usually right. She peered off to their left, toward the Snow Knife Mountains, and saw people approaching from a distance.

  "Rendir, we need to get out of here," she said, keeping the fear out of her voice. "I think I see bandits."

  "I've seen them, too," Rendir said. "But the horses are spooked."

  They fought to get the horses under control as the raiders approached. The closer the people came, the more the horses refused to do anything Rella commanded. Her heart pounded, and her chest felt tight.

  She could make out the bandits' faces now. Two men, two women. At last, the horses started running, taking the wagons along so fast Rella worried they'd tip over. Her wagon followed Rendir's too closely, and she figured Azira and Tarell followed at a similar distance.

  The ground gave a violent rumble, the road rose like a wall in front of them, and Rendir's wagon came to an abrupt stop as the horses collided with that wall. Rella tried to get her horses to stop, but her wagon smashed into Rendir's. The impact sent her flying, sent the wagon tipping over onto its side. She hit the ground hard, scraping her arms and banging her head.

  No major injuries, though. Dizzy, she climbed out of the wagon.

  Azira and Tarell were getting out of theirs, which had also tipped onto its side. They looked all right, but now their attackers stood at the edge of the road, watching with predatory gazes. Faint shimmers in the air told Rella that they had woven shields. She did a quick weave of Orange and Yellow and detected their enhanced heat field.

  Fireweavers.

  A dark-haired woman approached, sword drawn. "Looks like you have some good stuff here. I think it belongs to us now."

  Rendir had climbed out of his wagon. "This belongs to us, Fireweaver scum."

  "Scum?" said the other woman, blond and a little younger. "We're not the ones who execute people for something they can't control. For the way they were born. No. You do that, and you enjoy it."

  A man with reddish hair stepped forward. "Let us have what we want and no one gets hurt."

  "You're not getting a thing from us," Rendir said, narrowing his eyes as he drew his sword and stepped toward the man. "It's disgusting that people like you prey on us. You, with your evil ways, cursed by Halarik."

  "Halarik gave us a gift," said the other man, dark-haired and bearded. "Just as Aralea gave you a gift."

  "We seek a world where we can all live in peace," said the dark-haired woman. "Yet people like you want to kill us. People like you banish us to the Frozen Lands. You're the disgusting ones."

  Rella watched the encounter, feeling out of place. She had grown up her entire life in Tarileth, among Suncasters and Sunweavers. But these bandits, they were her people. They were what she might have been given different circumstances.

  No matter what Rendir said, Fireweaving did not make a person evil. Nor did Sunweaving make a person good.

  "I've had enough of this debate," Rendir said. He pointed at the bandits, weaving Red and Orange, and fire erupted around them. One of the men wove Yellow and Blue into a shield, though, and the fire stopped before it engulfed them.

  Rella hung back. These bandits didn't seem like terrible people. No, they were people making the
best of their bleak situation. Could she kill them for that?

  Rendir turned to her. "I need your help, Rella."

  "Let's not escalate this," said the dark-haired woman, gesturing for calm. "You have enough extra for us."

  Rendir's mouth became a thin line. He wove Red and Yellow, launching a burst of lightning, a field of yellow that formed all around their attackers. The two men fell, twitching on the ground and screaming in agony. Rella felt a hand on her shoulder. Azira.

  She turned. "No, Azira. Stay back. You can't fight them."

  "She's right," Tarell said, his face pale.

  The first woman did her own weave of Red and Yellow, and lightning danced all around Rendir. He couldn't weave the colors to create his own shield. If Rella didn't do something now, they would surely kill him. She wove Yellow and Blue, focusing the colors within her, putting all her effort into it.

  Her heart pounded in her ears, and her legs trembled, but she kept the weave going. At first, she couldn't stop the lightning, but then it began to dissipate—slowly, so slowly. By the time it disappeared, Rella felt exhausted. She fell to a squat, barely able to stay on her feet. Whoever had woven this lightning had talent.

  Rendir lay on the ground, stirring faintly. Rella started to rush over to him, but then the bandits stepped forward, blocking her path.

  "He deserves to die," said the dark-haired woman, probably the leader.

  Rella trembled. "We're not all like that."

  The woman smiled. "Well, you certainly aren't."

  "I don't know what you mean," Rella said, backing away. Rendir would kill her if this woman revealed the source of her powers. He wouldn't care that Rella had saved his life.

  The woman continued smiling. She spoke in a low voice. "I saw your secret. Come with us. There's only so long you can stay hidden in Tarileth."

  "I have a life here," Rella said. "I can't leave."

  "Well, it's your choice, but it's a foolish one." The woman led her people to the caravan, and they rummaged through the supplies. Rella didn't stop them. She didn't want to.

  Rendir, lying a few feet away, summoned the energy to sit up.

  "Don't bother," Rella said, grasping his shoulder. "They'll only kill you."

  Rendir glared at her. "That's not why you won't stop them. You sympathize with them."

  "Does it matter?" Rella said, irritated. "I just don't want to see anyone get hurt. There's enough violence and tragedy in this world without adding to it."

  Rendir groaned as he got to his feet. He staggered toward the bandits, who had now loaded their bags with everything they could carry. They turned away from the wagons.

  "Don't even think about it," the leader said, eyeing Rendir. "I will kill you if you resist."

  "It would be worth it," Rendir said, his face a mask of grim determination. Why did he hate Fireweavers to the extent that he'd die to prove a point? Rella pulled him away from the bandits, who began walking away.

  "We still have most of our goods," Rella said. "We can complete the trip once we get the wagons righted and calm the horses down."

  Rendir's horses looked injured, though, after colliding with the wall of rock, which had now receded. That wall had likely been planned ahead of time. The rest of the horses looked dazed, stamping their feet.

  Their attackers walked away, and Rendir watched them with narrowed eyes. Eventually, he turned to Rella, advancing on her with a look she'd never seen directed at her. Hatred.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, trembling. Azira and Tarell stood beside her.

  Rendir pointed at Rella, holding his sword in a threatening stance. "I know what you are. I always suspected it. Now I know."

  "I don't know what you mean," Rella said, backing away, her heart hammering. She recognized that look in his eyes—the same one he'd given the bandits. He knew, but how?

  "You're a Fireweaver," Rendir said. "Like your mother. I was always curious, so when you created that shield around me, I wove Orange and Yellow. I saw your heat field."

  "Why would you do that?" Rella asked.

  "I had to know."

  Tarell stepped between Rella and Rendir. "Leave her alone. You must be mistaken."

  "No," Rendir said. "There's no doubt. She's a Fireweaver. She always has been."

  "She's also your friend," Azira said. "She saved your life. What does it matter how she gets her magic?"

  Rendir put his sword at Azira's throat. "That's bordering on heretical there. Keep saying things like that and you'll be executed as an accomplice. I bet you've known all along."

  "Neither of them knew," Rella said, stepping forward and praying that Rendir would spare her friends. She'd accepted long ago that this might be her fate. "It's me you want. Leave them alone. I know I can't change your mind."

  Rendir pressed his sword against Rella's throat. "Rella Arivel, you are guilty of being a Fireweaver. The punishment is death."

  Chapter 3: The Dying Sunlamps

  Another Sunlamp went out. Kadin looked up in frustration, cursing his terrible luck. The Sunlamps never went out around anyone else, a fact his father made all too clear. They could not keep their farm going if they continued losing Sunlamps.

  Kadin glanced up at the dim white sun, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't hide this from his father, but his father was a violent man. Kadin had suffered enough beatings.

  Maybe today was the day he'd finally stand up to his father. Kadin was fifteen now, old enough that some people would already consider him a man. But, no, he couldn't stand up to his father. The man was too large, too strong.

  Kadin had been tending to their wheat crop toward the edge of the farm, checking it for pests, which gathered under the warmth of Sunlamps. That wheat crop would die without the Sunlamp's light and heat. They used to have fifteen working Sunlamps. Now they had four. And they'd all gone out around Kadin.

  He felt as though he'd been cursed by Halarik.

  He rose and walked toward the center of the farm, trying to think of any words that would keep his father from going into a rage. The man had shared his opinions on Kadin often enough. Useless. Lazy. A complete waste of the sun's life-giving rays.

  Kadin had never understood what made him so different from his sister Tyrine and brother Ralin. His father rarely criticized them.

  He found his mother and father working together toward the center of the farm, close to their cracked and weathered stone house. At first, they didn't notice him, but then his father looked up with narrowed eyes. "Why the core aren't you working?"

  Kadin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He felt that crushing terror he always experienced in his father's presence. At last, he said, "Another Sunlamp went out."

  His father stood up, towering over him. The man's mouth became a thin line, and he advanced on Kadin with heavy steps. Kadin backed away, his stomach twisting into knots. He'd seen his father angry before, but there was something different this time. Something dangerous.

  "It's not my fault," Kadin said, knowing his father wouldn't believe him.

  A muscle twitched in his father's face. "I've had enough of you. Because of you, we're barely surviving. No one cares about the Lightless. If we lose those Sunlamps, we die."

  Kadin backed away, trembling. "I don't mean for it to happen."

  "But it does happen," his father said, advancing on him, his gaze colder than the chill air. "And it will kill us."

  Kadin's mother hung off to the side, looking on with wide eyes, her face pale. As usual, she wouldn't intervene. None of them ever stood up for Kadin. What did he matter? He was another mouth to feed, a mouth his father didn't want.

  "Please, don't hurt me," Kadin said. His voice sounded pitiful, and he realized he was like the rest of them. Maybe he was useless.

  "You sound pathetic," his father said, advancing as Kadin continued backing away. "Not only are you useless. You know it. Curse you to Halarik."

  Kadin glanced around, looking for an escape. He could run away. Surely h
e could outrun his father. But what would he do then? The world didn't offer places for runaway Lightless. The only place for him was the streets, where he would succumb to starvation.

  Kadin's father reached out and clamped a hand around his neck. Panic seized Kadin as he struggled to breathe, trying to break free from his father's grip. His father tackled him and lay atop him, pinning him to the ground.

  "Sarin, what are you doing?" his mother said, her voice high-pitched.

  "Stay out of this, woman."

  "Of course," she said, backing off and looking away as though she could avoid responsibility by pretending this wasn't happening.

  Kadin tried to pull his father's hand off his neck, but the man held strong. Pressure surged in Kadin's head, and his lungs cried out for air. He felt as though his father would soon crush his windpipe, squeezing now with both hands, a murderous glint in his eyes.

  Kadin pushed with all the strength he had, but couldn't break free. He tried to kick at his father, but the man's weight made it so that he couldn't move, couldn't do anything. The pressure in his head and the pain in his lungs became unbearable. Darkness swam in his vision, and he prayed that it would end soon.

  "Father, no!" Ralin's voice. Why was he defending Kadin?

  Kadin's father released his grip and turned his head. "Why not?"

  "He has friends," Ralin said. "They'll wonder what's happened to him. Besides, he's more use to us alive. If we sell him to the right person, we could replace some of those Sunlamps. Not only that, but slavery is a punishment far worse than death."

  Ralin's face broke into a wide smile.

  Kadin's father rose, and Kadin coughed as his breathing returned to normal. He pressed a hand to his tender neck and winced.

  "You're right," his father said. "I wasn't thinking rationally." He turned his murderous gaze on Kadin. "But don't think this is a reprieve. You'll soon wish you were dead."

  Kadin already did. He continued coughing, turning over onto his side. From everything he'd heard, slave owners made his father appear downright kind. Most slave owners came from the Sunweaver class, the type of people that treated the Lightless cruelly, as though they didn't matter, as though they were nothing but a burden.