Sunweaver Page 4

  "I don't know," he said. "I need to pray."

  "May Aralea give you the answers you seek."

  Chapter 5: The Path of Exile

  Rella trembled as she backed away from Rendir, who advanced on her with fire in his gaze. How could she have been so careless? She'd worked her whole life to keep her Fireweaving secret. She couldn't face execution now. There had to be a way out of this.

  His sword felt cold against her neck.

  "Do you truly want to do this?" she asked. "I saved your life."

  "That doesn't matter," he said, his gaze hard. "You're the enemy. You always have been."

  Rella's heart pounded. "Think about this logically. If I were the enemy, I would have joined with the people who attacked us. I would have let you die. Perhaps Fireweavers are not all evil."

  "Or they just appear to be decent people," Rendir said, pressing the sword harder to her neck, so hard she thought it would draw blood. "People do lie from time to time."

  "Have I ever seemed like a liar?"

  "No, but you are. That's clear now."

  Azira stepped closer, her face pale. "I can't let you do this, Rendir."

  Rendir glared at her. "I told you stay out of this. This woman is not the friend you think she is. She's the enemy hiding among us, waiting for the best moment to strike."

  "That can't be true," Tarell said, moving to step between them but hesitating at the last moment. "I know Rella as well as I know myself. I don't blame her for keeping this a secret. Look at the mess it's created. Please, let her go."

  Rendir hesitated a few moments, as though waging an internal battle. "I can't do that. It goes against everything I believe in, everything that keeps our world alive. Fireweavers will be the end of the world. Scripture says that much. We have to put aside our personal feelings and do what's right for everyone." He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Rella."

  He pulled his sword away and prepared to plunge it through Rella's chest. Rella turned at the last moment, weaving Yellow and Blue to create a shield. The sword slowed moments before it hit her chest and struck a soft blow, cutting through a layer or two of skin.

  She twisted away from Rendir's next attack and wove Yellow and Green within her to alter the ground beneath Rendir. A small hole appeared beneath Rendir's feet, and he fell into it. She manipulated the ground, trapping his feet among the heavy rocks. When he tried to pull free, he fell against the snow-covered ground.

  Rendir had told her before that he couldn't weave Yellow and Green, so she knew she had him trapped. He continued struggling, glaring up at her from the ground.

  "I don't want to hurt you," she said, trembling. "Please, let this go."

  "I can't do that. You have to die."

  "Well, you won't get anywhere for a while." Rella figured it would be hours before Rendir could free himself on his own—long enough that she could get away. "And don't even think of using Sunweaving against me. You know I'm more talented than you."

  "I am no fool," Rendir said. "You have me defenseless."

  Rella wove Yellow and Blue, creating a shield around him. Instead of protecting him, it was designed to prevent him from using his powers on her. A very powerful Sunweaver might break through her shield, but she didn't think Rendir had that much skill.

  Tarell put a hand on her shoulder, his touch warm and comforting. "Is everything he said true? Are you a Fireweaver?"

  "Yes, and a very talented one. I can do all the weaves."

  Azira's eyes widened. "I didn't know you could do all the weaves. Why do we have to kill people with such talent?"

  "I wish I knew," Rella said. "My mother wasn't evil. I'm not evil. Even those bandits we faced aren't evil. They could have killed us all easily." She checked that Rendir remained trapped in the ground. "I don't know what to believe about my powers. I know they come from Halarik, that Halarik is evil, but does that make the powers themselves evil?"

  Tarell scratched at his brown hair. "I have no idea. I always thought it did."

  Azira glanced warily at Rendir, then looked south, toward the Snow Knife Mountains. "What are we going to do now? Are you going to kill Rendir?"

  It was the easy choice. The choice many would make.

  "No," Rella said. "Rendir is not a bad man, simply a misguided one. He is not alone in that. Do I hold a grudge against the Church of Aralea for persecuting people like me? Yes. But I can't hold that against people who've grown up with the Church's indoctrination."

  "It's not indoctrination," Rendir said, straining to move. "It's the truth."

  Rella turned back to him, finding that she wasn't angry. "As I said, I don't hold it against you."

  Tarell massaged her shoulder. His touch felt so warm, so safe, but she could no longer have a life with him. As long as Rendir survived, he would hunt her down.

  "What are you going to do now?" Tarell asked.

  Tears formed in Rella's eyes. "I-I'll have to go into exile. It's the only choice."

  "We're coming with you," Azira said, tugging at her brown hair.

  Rella pulled away from Tarell and walked a few steps, turning away from her friends to hide the tears streaming down her face. "You two can't come with me. You have lives back home."

  "But I love you," Tarell said as he wrapped his arms around her.

  Rella could barely speak through her tears. "And I love you, too. But this isn't the life for you. You can keep working for my father. He'll understand why I have to do this."

  She pulled out of Tarell's hug.

  "But where can you go?" Azira said. "How do you know these Fireweavers will take you in? How do you know they're decent people?"

  "The leader spoke to me," Rella said, stomach churning. "She offered me a chance to go with them."

  "But do you trust them?" Tarell asked. "You'll be all alone with them. I don't care if everyone down there's a Fireweaver. I have to come with you, Rella."

  Rella wiped away her tears. "I have no idea if I can trust them, and I doubt they'll trust two Suncasters. You don't want this life. You don't want to worry every day that you'll wake up with a knife in your back. Go home. I'll manage."

  "But you won't be happy," Tarell said. "You need us."

  Why did they have to prolong this? The decision was hard enough already.

  "I'll manage," Rella said. "I'm resilient. I can create a new life for myself. I'd love for you to be a part of it, but that isn't possible. We belong to different worlds now." Her tears came stronger than ever. "I'll always love you, Tarell, and I'll never forget you."

  "No," Tarell said, "that's not how it should be."

  "Perhaps it is," Azira said. "We don't belong in that world."

  Tarell sank to his knees. "I belong wherever Rella is." He looked up at Rella. "I was going to wait until we got home, but I want you to marry me."

  "No, you don't," Rella said. "I'm a Fireweaver. You deserve someone who won't bring you pain and danger. You deserve a life where you don't have to worry that your wife and children will be executed one day. You're a good man, Tarell, and I love you." She found she could barely speak. "But we can't be together. We never could have been."

  It was strange that she realized that just now. She'd always had her doubts, but Rendir's actions had given her clarity—however much she wished things were different.

  Azira squatted beside Tarell and started as though she was going to put a hand on Tarell's shoulder, but then she pulled it away. "Let her go," she said. "If it's truly meant to be, Aralea will find a way to make it happen. You'll have to trust Rella's judgment."

  Rella did put her hands on Tarell's shoulders. "You trust me, don't you?"

  "Of course. I just can't stand to see you go."

  "It isn't easy," Rella said, "but it's the only choice I can make." She took Tarell's head into her hand and pulled his face close to hers. They shared a long, passionate kiss. She didn't care that they were both trembling, that tears covered their faces. She wished she could always have Tarell by her side, wished she could c
hange her luck in life.

  But her father had always told her that you had to make the best of what life gave you. Life had made her a Fireweaver. Life had allowed her powers to be discovered. She couldn't change those facts. She could only adapt and live the best life she could.

  At last, they broke apart, and Rella's tears streamed harder than ever. "I knew this day would come eventually, but I didn't want to think about it, didn't want to accept that it might actually happen. I thought that I could avoid it if I pretended I was normal. I was wrong."

  Tarell looked up at her. "There's no shame in that. I understand."

  "I'll miss you," Rella said.

  "As I will miss you," Tarell said.

  Azira wiped away a tear. "As will I."

  They all stared at each other in tense silence. Rella had no idea how long that silence stretched. It felt like an eternity, like she was living in a dream.

  The longer she hung around here, the harder it would be to leave.

  "I have to go now," she said. "I have to find those bandits."

  She returned to the caravan and grabbed a few supplies before returning one last time to say goodbye to her friends.

  She kissed Tarell, hugged Azira, then started south toward the Snow Knife Mountains, feeling like lead weighed down her every step. She'd seen the bandits going this direction. Maybe she could catch up to them.

  She didn't look back, knowing she'd lose all determination if she did. Tarell and Azira did not call out to her, and she tried to convince herself that they no longer existed, that they were merely players in a dream she could no longer touch.

  This was her true life now, the life she'd chosen for herself. Even as miserable as she felt, she knew she'd made the right decision in leaving Rendir alive. Eventually, he would free himself, or Azira and Tarell would free him, but Rella would be long gone by then.

  She followed the path, praying she'd catch up to those bandits, praying that she had judged them correctly. A cold wind swirled around her as she trudged through the snow, over rocky terrain. Ahead, the Snow Knife Mountains loomed like a giant prison wall. Once she crossed those mountains, she would be part of the world she'd always tried to avoid.

  Was it an evil world? She didn't know what to think anymore.

  The afternoon wore on as she followed the bandits' footprints in the snow, crossing a landscape that grew more and more uneven. How far had they gone? What if she never caught up to them and froze to death crossing the mountains?

  The snow fell harder, obscuring the bandits' footprints. She wrapped her fur cloak tighter about her and wove a shield to protect herself against the cold, but she still shivered. And it was only a little below freezing. The thought of living south of those mountains, in the Frozen Lands, made her feel even colder.

  Whenever she thought of Azira and Tarell, tears trickled down her cheeks. She had not expected this day to come so soon. Would execution have been a better choice?

  The snow became heavier and heavier, swirling around her in frigid blasts of wind. Soon visibility was so poor she could see only a few feet. She had lost all hope of finding the bandits. Maybe it would be better if she let herself succumb to the cold. After all, would Fireweavers accept her as one of them? She had denied her identity for so long.

  But was that her identity? She thought of herself as a Sunweaver, not a Fireweaver.

  It didn't matter now. She had to accept what she'd always been. A new life waited for her somewhere beyond those mountains, and she had to make the best of it.

  Chapter 6: The Slave Auction

  Kadin woke early the next morning, chilled by the certainty of what lay ahead. The sun had not yet risen, and the only light outside came from their few remaining Sunlamps.

  Why did those Sunlamps always go out around him?

  Had Tyrine been correct in saying he might be a Suncaster? He didn't know much about Suncasting and Sunweaving. The Lightless didn't concern themselves with such things. All that mattered was survival.

  Kadin's neck felt tender, probably covered in bruises. What would people think of him at the slave market today? Would they be afraid to take a bruised slave?

  He rolled out of his stone bed. A light coating of fur and feathers lay atop the stone. Not the most comfortable, but he'd grown used to it. Would he have such meager comforts as these in his life as a slave? He'd heard too many stories of abuse and hardship.

  The rest of his family was asleep, snoring faintly. The room's lone Sunlamp was dark, and even if he hadn't been worried about waking his family, he wouldn't have touched it. The last thing he wanted to do was leave them with the parting present of another dead Sunlamp.

  Yesterday, it hadn't seemed quite real, but now he knew he'd be gone within hours. Would he ever see Tyrine again? Or his friend Damin, who lived in town? Would anyone else miss him?

  He pushed through the stone door and stepped out into the cool air, then made his way around the farm by the light of distant Sunlamps. Tyrine didn't want him to run away, but it seemed the best idea. Surely he could find a life in nearby Illindel, or perhaps in the capital city of Hyrandel. Many Lightless lived on the streets there, making livings as petty thieves. Bleak, but it sounded better than slavery.

  His steps took him to the short stone fence at the edge of the farm. In the distance, the dim glow of Illindel's Sunlamps filled the sky. He'd be there in a few hours, facing his grim future. He leaned against the fence. Could he abandon Tyrine? He wanted to escape, but she had always been kind to him. She would never forgive him if he left.

  And he would never forgive himself.

  The sky had lightened to the east. He strode back toward the house, his decision made. He hated it more than he'd ever hated anything, except perhaps his father, but it was the right decision. The only decision. He'd have to make the best of it.

  When he entered, his family still slept, but they didn't take long to wake. They had a quick, meager breakfast before Kadin and his father began the long walk to Illindel.

  "Let's get moving," his father said, yanking at his arm. Kadin hadn't finished his food, but he knew protesting would do him no good.

  He rose from the table, looking at Tyrine for a long moment. It had never been so difficult to force the words out of his mouth. "Goodbye, Tyrine. I'll miss you."

  He turned away without a word for his mother or Ralin. His father nodded tersely, and they stepped out of the house. The dim morning sun barely softened the chill in the air.

  Kadin's father whispered a cheerful tune as they walked, and Kadin resisted the burning desire to break the man's jaw. His father, after all, was not known for his rationality. If he got too angry, he might kill Kadin.

  "I can't believe this day has finally come," Kadin's father said with a smile. "I will finally be rid of you."

  "Who did Mother sleep with?" Kadin asked.

  His father narrowed his eyes. "How am I supposed to know?"

  "Just thought I'd ask."

  "Well, I'm tired of your curiosity. Do that as a slave and you'll suffer nothing but beatings. Soon you will realize that I've gone easy on you."

  Kadin said nothing as they left the farm behind, marching along an uneven road bordered by rocks and stunted bushes. Occasionally, a horse-drawn wagon would pass them.

  Every step felt like a march to his execution. Deep down, he had the feeling he'd rather be dead, for then his misery could be over. He could be in the Sun Kingdom with Aralea. He could be free from his father, who would end up down in the core with Halarik.

  It took them a few hours to reach town. The streets bustled with morning activity. People racing back and forth. Horse-drawn carts rattling across the rocky streets. Merchants announcing their wares in the nearby market. Kadin and his father passed buildings made of stone, buildings that were usually built by Yellow/Green Sunweavers, who could manipulate rock into shapes.

  But that took time and energy, so most of the buildings had fallen into various states of disrepair, especially those buildings own
ed by the Lightless.

  Kadin and his father didn't go to the poorer sections of town, though. The market stood in a well-kept district where the streets weren't too uneven, where many Suncasters lived. The Sunweavers, however, lived toward the edge of the city, in grand stone manors.

  In the center of the market district, eight people were lined up in chains. Some were young, about Kadin's age, but others looked older and rougher—probably criminals. A man in the golden Sun Guard uniform watched over the chained prisoners.

  With a bounce to his step, Kadin's father walked toward the man. "I have another slave for you."

  The Sun Guard turned, narrowing his eyes at Kadin. "He looks rather small."

  "My son has grown up working on a farm," Kadin's father said. "He's stronger than he looks."

  "You intend to sell your own son into slavery?"

  "We need the money," Kadin's father said, running a hand through his dark beard. "There's no law against it."

  "I can't say there is, but I find it unusual." The Sun Guard stepped closer to Kadin, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Kadin's neck. "What're these bruises?"

  Kadin's father maintained a calm expression. "He got into a fight the other day. He's got a bit of a temper. Part of the reason we want to get rid of him."

  Kadin didn't know how to respond to his father's lie. His father deserved to be exposed for the murderous bastard he was, but at the same time, Kadin doubted the Sun Guard would take much interest. No one cared about the Lightless, not unless there was an actual murder.

  Even then, they might ignore it.

  "I didn't get into a fight," Kadin said, pointing at his father. "He did this."

  "And he's a liar," Kadin's father said, shooting a venomous look at Kadin. "You can ask any of us. He got into a fight."

  The Sun Guard looked on with a frown. "I really don't care. If you want to sell him into slavery, that's your right. And if that's what he has to deal with at home, it might be a better life for him. Come with me. I'll need your signature."

  His signature. That was all Kadin's father could write. No one bothered to teach the Lightless anything. No one cared enough.