Sunweaver

by Ryan W. Mueller

  Tiran screamed but lurched forward, toward Arna. Caught by surprise, she didn't move fast enough. The flames surrounding Tiran hit her, and so did Tiran's sword, which he plunged through her heart. She let out a brief yelp and fell backward, clutching at the sword, her eyes wide. She hit the ground and didn't move.

  Tiran continued screaming. He rolled on the stone floor, trying to extinguish the flames. Kadin rushed to his side, moving as close as he dared, but there was nothing he could do. He felt so useless, so powerless. Would he ever get over that feeling?

  "Someone help!" he shouted, but the battle still raged. The room glowed with the light of weaves. The ground rumbled. Flames burned in scattered locations, their heat and smoke filling the entire chamber. But Kadin only cared about Tiran, the man who'd saved his life.

  Where was the water? He glanced from side to side in panic, then saw the place where people had retrieved buckets of water before. He took off toward it, praying he wasn't too late.

  * * * * *

  Deril registered the chaos around him, but only dimly. He had never depleted his reserves like this before, never felt the complete lack of energy that came with it. But eventually his senses returned, and his heart pounded like a drum.

  Tiran was on fire.

  Deril crawled to his friend's side, staying far enough away that the flames wouldn't burn him. Tiran's screams had died down, and Deril's stomach twisted into knots.

  "Tiran," he said as the heat washed over him. "Tiran."

  Distantly, he registered other sounds. Screaming. Rumbling. The clinking of swords. But none of it mattered, not when his closest friend was dying. There had to be something he could do. He reached out, as though he could somehow extinguish the flames with his bare hands, but all he achieved was burning himself. He collapsed, covered in sweat and utterly exhausted.

  His vision faded. He almost blacked out. The smoke had thickened, but it wasn't so thick that things should be this dark. Was he dying as well?

  A sudden deluge of water broke him out of his fog. He looked up to see Kadin standing over him, hurling another bucket of water at Tiran. Didn't Kadin know it was too late? Tiran was already dead. As soon as this realization hit Deril, he felt like passing out again.

  Another deluge of water. The flames no longer burned, but when Deril looked at Tiran, he knew there was no hope. He couldn't even recognize his friend beneath the burns. Tiran's skin looked black, and a sickening stench filled the air. Deril lay on the hot, wet ground, trying to feel anything but numb. He couldn't believe what he saw.

  A hand touched his shoulder. Kadin. "I-I'm sorry," the boy said. "I couldn't save him."

  Deril couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't think of any words to say. He no longer cared about the battle, the world, or anything. He wanted to wake up and realize this was a dream.

  But he wouldn't. This was real. Pretending it was a dream would achieve nothing but his own death.

  "Help me get to my feet," he said, peering up at Kadin.

  "A-are you sure?"

  "There's still a battle going on. We're not safe here."

  Deril's body refused at first, but eventually he found the strength to stand up with Kadin's help. He staggered at first, and Kadin supported him as they backed away from the battle. Deril collapsed against the nearest wall, his legs trembling.

  Across the chamber, the battle was dying down. Eight people remained standing, apart from Deril and Kadin: four on each side. Sondir, Davin, and Faina were among those still alive, but they were covered in soot and moving like they'd suffered injuries. No one looked eager to continue the battle. They all leaned against furniture or walls.

  Sondir limped forward. "We need to end this. We've suffered too many losses. Your leader is dead. Any more bloodshed is completely unnecessary."

  One of Arna's Fireweavers glanced at her limp form, then nodded to his companions before turning to Sondir. "We're leaving. There's no point anymore. We'll continue this battle when we're in a better position to do so." He coughed. "This isn't over."

  Deril felt so weak he could barely stand, even with the wall helping him. Kadin stood next to him, looking on with tears in his eyes. Deril wanted to say something, but whenever he opened his mouth, he could make only a strangled, incoherent sound.

  Then the tears began to flow.

  Tiran is dead. Three words Deril had never prepared to hear. He should have considered it a possibility, but Tiran had always seemed so strong, the kind of person who would make it through anything. Deril had always been the reckless person, the one more likely to meet an early end. This was wrong. Maybe he could close his eyes, and when he opened them, Tiran would be standing in front of him, smiling like this was all a joke.

  But that wouldn't have been Tiran. He had always been so serious. Loyal. Dutiful.

  Deril's stomach twisted into knots. With every passing second, it felt as though the world pressed down upon him more heavily. He felt suffocated, empty. How could he ever hope to save his father without Tiran's help? How could he take charge of this quest like nothing had happened?

  He looked to the center of the chamber, where Tiran's charred body lay, and tears raced down his cheeks. It felt as though all that existed in the world was this horrible image.

  Alone. Deril had no one else, not anymore. In his sheltered life, he'd had few opportunities to make friends. Karik had never been a close friend. Tiran, who'd grown up with him as the son of Captain Hanir's predecessor, had been like the brother Karik should have been.

  "Are you going to be all right?" Kadin asked, startling Deril out of his thoughts.

  Deril wiped away his tears. "I-I don't want to talk about it. Not now."

  "He meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Faina said, joining them.

  Deril fought to keep his voice steady. "He meant everything to me. He was my only friend."

  "And he died as a friend should," Faina said. "He died to save your life."

  Deril leaned all his weight against the cool stone wall. "I know, but that doesn't make me feel better. I feel like I should have found some way to keep him alive."

  "We all have regrets," Faina said, "but if there's anything I've learned recently, it is this. The past is the past. You can't change what happened. You have to move forward."

  Deril looked away, fighting back anger. "I know that. It's not very easy at the moment, though." He took a deep breath. "I need some time."

  Through his tears, he saw Sondir and Davin approaching.

  "I'm afraid we don't have the luxury of time," Sondir said.

  "Twenty-seven days," Deril said. The Blue/Purple conversation with Kae had taken place last night, but now that seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Sondir nodded gravely. "That will give you barely enough time to reach Atarin's palace if you set out tomorrow. It is a long journey to Haladel."

  "And that's not the only thing I have to do," Deril said, sick to his stomach as he glanced over at Kadin, and then at Sondir. "I didn't tell you everything earlier. Kadin here is not just a Sunweaver. He can feel the sun. I have to train him to be a Sunlord."

  Sondir's eyes widened. "Do you think you can do that in so little time?"

  "I don't know," Deril said, "but I have to try. If we can't rescue my father, if we can't stop them from carrying out their plan, we have another chance to stop it. As soon as Kadin comes into his powers, they won't be able to free Halarik."

  Kadin looked pale. Deril couldn't imagine carrying a burden like that at the boy's age.

  "Then you have even less time," Sondir said as he looked upon the Brotherhood's headquarters, now a place of death and destruction. Smoke hung in the air, and the once beautiful stones were cracked in many places.

  Deril thought about what he had to do, which helped him block the pain of Tiran's death—for the moment at least. He looked at the faces closest to him. "I'll need help."

  "I'm afraid I no longer have much to offer you," Sondir said. "With the Brotherhood in its current state, I can't afford to spa
re anyone."

  "I'll go with you," Davin said.

  "I suppose I have to," Kadin said.

  "It's the only way I can train you," Deril said.

  "I'm coming, too," Faina said. "Kadin has risked so much to help me. I go where he goes." She wrapped an arm around Kadin, and he sank into her embrace with a faint smile.

  "Then it's settled," Deril said, too weary to argue. "We leave in the morning."

  And the tears came again.

  Chapter 35: Dangerous Plans

  Rella sat on the floor in a large stone chamber, feeding her power to the core. Talin had decided she was strong enough to do this without his supervision, though Karik remained with her, performing his duties as a Firelord.

  When Rella felt too exhausted to continue, she severed her connection with the core. She became suddenly cold, and her entire body trembled.

  Soon Karik finished. He looked a little pale, but not as weak as Rella. "How do you feel?" he asked with a smile. "I know how draining this can be."

  She staggered to her feet. "Does it get better?"

  "Eventually." He started toward the door, beckoning for her to follow. "We should have some lunch. I find eating helps me recover my strength afterward."

  Rella's stomach rumbled. "Yes, lunch sounds nice."

  She followed Karik through the mazelike corridors, trying to remember her way, as she still felt lost within the palace despite looking over the plans. Soon they reached the dining chamber, and Firecaster servants brought them food.

  Rella ate ravenously, and her energy returned. Her fire reserves would take longer to recharge, though. How could people do this every day?

  "So are you happy with life here at the palace?" Karik asked between bites.

  "I'm adjusting." Rella hoped he wouldn't see through her lies. "A lot has changed recently in my life, and I'm glad to find a place where I might belong."

  In part, that was true. She did belong here, but not for the reasons Karik would expect. No. She belonged here to prevent Halarik's return. She'd spent all her life looking over her shoulder, expecting her powers to be exposed. Now she was playing a more dangerous game.

  Karik smiled, putting her at ease with his relaxed demeanor. "I know how it feels when you don't think you belong somewhere. I spent my whole childhood feeling that way. You can't understand how it feels to be a Fireweaver born to the most important Sunweaver in the world, to know that you'll be nothing but a disappointment to him. No, my father never treated me any different, but he knew, and I think a part of him did resent me."

  Rella wanted to hate Karik for what he intended to do, but she couldn't do it. She saw a good man beneath all that hatred, a man shaped by a childhood where he never felt like he belonged.

  She understood how that felt.

  "You're right," she said. "The pressure must have been terrible. Is that why you kid—why you left?" Her stomach lurched. Had he noticed her mistake?

  Karik narrowed his eyes, hesitating a moment. "Yes, that was part of it. Ultimately, I left Tarileth for the same reason you did. It didn't matter that I was the Sunlord's son. They would have executed me the same as anyone else."

  "It's just wrong," Rella said, and she meant it. Yes, she thought they were crazy for trying to return Halarik to the world, but she understood their reasons. They weren't evil people, just people trying to address centuries of injustice. Injustice she felt herself.

  "I know," he said. "And I know you might not like everything we're doing. I respect that." He narrowed his eyes. "But as Firelord Atarin said, you can't act on those doubts. I like you, Rella, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

  The look in his eyes said he was sincere, that he did care for her. Could she risk letting him know she'd discovered their secret?

  "If you're doing anything you shouldn't be doing," he said, "I urge you to stop."

  Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. The way he said that made it sound like he had noticed her mistake moments ago. Did he expect her to confess, or was he pretending he didn't know, trying to protect her? She wanted to heed his advice, but she couldn't.

  She kept her expression neutral. "Thank you for the advice."

  "Be careful, Rella," he said, rising from his chair.

  "Please, stay," she said. She liked having someone to talk to, even if she didn't trust him. Thus far, she'd avoided contact with others, focusing her efforts on keeping Halarik from returning. She'd been looking through the palace's plans, attempting to find secret routes into the palace. How else would she get Deril inside?

  "I suppose I can stay," Karik said. "I have no urgent matters to address." He leaned on the table, attempting to look casual, but it seemed forced this time. "What would you like to talk about?"

  Rella hesitated. Could she reveal her secrets to him? And if she did reveal those secrets, which ones should she share? It could be better for her if they thought she was being open with them.

  She took a few deep breaths. "I know who you're hiding in the palace."

  "I suspected as much," Karik said, startling her.

  "What? You did?"

  "We're not stupid, Rella. Did you think no one was paying attention to what you were looking at in the library? I figured you for a smart woman, so I'm not surprised you made the connection." He leaned forward with interest. "How did you deduce it?"

  Her stomach churned. Karik had said nothing about the palace plans she'd looked at, but did he know about them? She couldn't take the risk that he did.

  "Well, I figured that you wanted to return Halarik to this world," she said. "From there, it was a simple matter of researching how someone could break Halarik's prison. I found the book stating how it can be done, and when I considered your presence here, I knew immediately that you were hiding the Sunlord in that guarded corridor." She felt sick. "How much does Firelord Atarin know?"

  "Enough that you need to be careful. You might not mean any harm, but there are reasons that Atarin keeps secrets. Don't test his patience."

  "Well, it shouldn't matter now," she said, wishing those words were true. "I know that you're hiding the Sunlord here. He knows that I know. But I'm not going to do anything stupid."

  "I'm not so sure," Karik said. "I can see it in your eyes, Rella."

  "It's only natural to doubt what you're doing," Rella said, working to keep her legs from bouncing, praying that the general clamor of voices in the cafeteria would drown out their conversation. "Halarik has been imprisoned for six hundred years. Even if he wasn't insane before, he's had six hundred years to dwell on revenge."

  "What's your point?"

  She leaned on the table, her legs jumping. "He's going to try to destroy the Sunweaver world. Maybe Firelord Atarin has no problem with that, but I think you do. You grew up in Tarileth. Surely there are people you wouldn't want to see hurt."

  He looked away, frowning in thought. "Perhaps, but this is more important." He rose from his chair. "I don't want to continue this conversation. I'm afraid you might make yourself look bad. And please don't say these things around Atarin."

  "I won't," she said, cold dread washing over her as she watched Karik go. Why had she revealed so much to him? No matter how charming he was, she didn't trust him.

  She returned to her chamber, where she pulled the palace's plans out of her wooden dresser and settled down on her bed. The plans were so detailed, so full of little marks, that it was taking a long time to locate secret passages. She read for hours by the golden light of Sunlamps.

  At last, she located a promising passage. It was located on the palace's north side and traveled farther north, into the city. She followed the passage, noting that it ended in an unfamiliar building. At first, she felt like throwing the plans, but then she relaxed. All she had to do was find a map of the city.

  After a quick trip to the library, she returned to her room with the map she needed. The building indicated on the plans was a warehouse. It stood at the southern side of the city, due north of the palace. Her stomach bubbl
ed with excitement.

  She lay back upon her soft pillow, weaving Blue and Purple.

  Rella? Kae sent.

  I think I know how I can get them into the palace, Rella sent. There's a passage that leads to a cellar beneath the palace. It comes from a warehouse at the southern side of the city, directly across from the palace's entrance. I'll have to go see the warehouse. I'm not sure exactly where the passage is within the warehouse, but this is the best chance we have.

  Good work, Kae sent. I'll pass it on to Deril. Please be careful.

  I'll do my best, Rella sent, but she felt more anxious than ever. She kept glancing toward the door, worried that someone would come barging through at any second. That's all I have. I think I need to go now. I'm getting really worried about things.

  It'll be all right, Kae sent. I hope to see you soon.

  Kae terminated the connection, and Rella hopped to her feet. Now that she'd found a potential way into the palace, she had to hide the plans. They would ruin everything if found.

  But where could she hide them? Nowhere in her room was safe.

  No. She had to pick some random place, perhaps one of the many Firelord channeling rooms. She could choose one she didn't normally use, do a Yellow/Green weave, and bury the plans beneath the stone.

  She waited until it was nighttime, until she was sure no one would be in the channeling rooms. Sick to her stomach, she left her room and found an empty chamber.

  After easing the door closed, she crept to the back corner of the room and wove Yellow and Green to get a feel for the stones beneath her. The walls of the room had been reinforced, but the floor looked untouched. She pressed a hand to the cold stone, weaving the colors and shifting the rocks apart.

  It was a tedious process. Going fast would make too much noise. Even at this slow speed, the ground rumbled faintly, and she glanced at the door every time she heard a sound out in the corridor. Footsteps passed. Voices echoed. Her heart climbed into her throat, and sweat trickled down her forehead, though the weave wasn't all that tiring.

  At last, she cleared a hole large enough to slip the plans beneath the floor. She did so, then resumed the weave, closing the hole. This was the more difficult part. She had to mend the broken stone in such a way that nothing looked amiss.