Crown of Sunlight

by Payton Taylor

  Across the room, the man still lingered in the corner, and when they came out in their different clothes, he stepped forward.

  When Jo saw him in the light, she realized he was beautiful. His silky dark hair was parted to the side, reaching his jawline, and his eyes were the color of cinnamon. He was maybe an inch taller than Jo’s five feet eleven inches and was athletically built. Jo noticed he had a single gold ring painted around his right bicep.

  He stared at Jo and Sunny, not quite meeting their eyes, and his face turned thoughtful, thinking about what he was going to say.

  They're looking at me. How long has it been? Quick, introduce yourself.

  “I’m Seren,” he said. “Orrin told me to show you around camp until he’s finished with his meeting.” His voice was so soft that Jo almost felt the need to lean closer to hear him better.

  Jo and Sunny shared a glance.

  “Sounds. . .good?” Sunny told him, giving him her standard bright smile.

  Why is everyone acting like this situation is normal? she thought.

  Jo had to agree.

  Seren grinned, "Good." Then he turned and began leading the way through the building.

  The sun was setting as Jo stepped outside, painting the sky in bright pinks and oranges. The "camp"—Jo wondered why he kept calling it a camp when it seemed like a normal town to her— was set up at the edge of a forest. Was it the same forest she and Sunny had been lost in? As the sunlight faded, tiny sparkling white lights lit up the trees and fireflies drifted through the air.

  People of all ages wondered about, doing chores and talking. Some wore loose pants and shirts while others wore cloth draped around their bodies, almost like togas. A woman and a man sat weaving baskets and laughing while a group of men and women carried a large deer carcass that hung from a thick tree branch through the camp. Brightly colored buildings ranged out far, suggesting this community was rather large.

  “What is this place?” Jo asked Seren, tripping over the unfamiliar language.

  Seren looked at her as if that was an odd question. Again, he took a moment to answer, and Jo heard the answer in his mind before he actually spoke aloud. “These are the Lorlean Lands. We are the Strongfair tribe. Some people are born here, and others come from far away because they want to live a simple life.”

  “Tribe? Who's in charge?” Sunny asked.

  Seren took another moment to answer, practicing what he was going to say in his mind. Jo and Sunny waited patiently. “Orrin is our chief. We prefer simple lives that aren’t ruled by kings and queens and corrupt governments. Each tribe has its own laws, and people stay with the tribe that suits them best. The Lorlean Lands have no ruling party.”

  As he explained, a faint rumble shook the ground.

  Seren grinned. “Miko’s back!”

  A gigantic hoof, at least two feet wide, attached to a long spindly leg, emerged from the tallest and thickest trees. Jo’s heart beat faster as another foot appeared, followed by the biggest moose she had ever seen. It was at least fifteen feet tall, not counting the massive antlers. Its light brown fur was covered in twigs and leaves, and strings of moss hung from its antlers. It had dark, mossy green stripes down its back, and walked with astounding quiet for its size.

  Seren ran forward and reached upward. The moose lowered its head and nuzzled his hand, closing its eyes in pleasure as Seren brushed his hand through its fur.

  Seren laughed, then glanced at them. Jo saw a fuzzy picture form in his mind of a man who looked a lot like Seren and she realized it was a memory.

  The man pointed to a nearby woman and leaned down to whisper in a younger Seren's ear. "She's leaning away and her eyes are big. That means she's startled or afraid."

  "Don't be afraid," Seren told them as the memory faded. "Miko won’t hurt you. He’s our Neeta—we trained him to carry and pull heavy things. He’s sweet.”

  Jo understood most of what Seren said, all except the word Neeta. She supposed that made sense. If there wasn’t such a thing on Earth, of course, there would be no translation.

  Slowly, they walked forward and held out their hands, as Seren had. Miko shifted, bringing his head closer so they could pet him. His fur was thick and slightly damp, and he stared at them with huge brown eyes. After a moment his knees bent, and he lowered himself to the ground.

  Seren took a large wooden comb out of one of his many pockets and began running it through Miko’s fur. Jo and Sunny continued petting Miko as Seren brushed. Several other people came up with their own combs and began helping. They combed the leaves, dirt, and sticks out of Miko’s fur. One man climbed Miko’s back and head and began removing moss from his antlers. Jo saw that each of the people had gold markings like Seren, but not everyone in the camp had had one.

  “What do your gold marks mean?” she asked Seren. He kept combing and she had to repeat herself before he’d realized she was speaking to him.

  He looked down at the golden band around his arm. Unlike the Marks on her and Sunny’s back, Jo was pretty certain this mark was paint rather than ink. “These are hunter’s marks,” he told her, “They’re given to the members of the tribe who are the camp hunters and guardians. I’m a scout. I’m good at tracking and finding things,” he told them proudly. “If we get one, it means we are trained to protect the tribe and hunt for food. Orrin paints them on himself.”

  Seren said Orrin’s name with a sort of hero’s worship. As if that reminded him, he pulled out his phone device and checked it. “Orrin is finished with his meeting, so I should take you to him,” he told them.

  Jo and Sunny followed him back through the camp to a dark blue building that was larger than the rest. When they walked inside, they found Orrin and the Healer woman waiting for them. Jo hadn’t remembered meeting them, but when she saw their faces, their names came rushing back. She wasn’t sure if it was just her memory, or if she was partly reading their thoughts.

  Orrin smiled kindly and thanked Seren for bringing them. Seren beamed and walked over to lean against a table and started fiddling with his necklace.

  “You girls are probably looking for some explanations,” Orrin said, dark eyes sparkling.

  Finally, some answers, Jo thought.

  “Lizea and Jesslyn have already told you about your Gifts, yes?”

  Jo and Sunny nodded.

  “I am what’s called a Teacher. I can absorb information from the books I touch and the people I meet and pass that knowledge onto others. That is how I gave you the ability to speak Valadan, our language. You are clearly not from here?” At the end of the sentence, his voice raised as if in question.

  “Where are we?” Jo asked, repeating her question from earlier.

  “You are in the land of Lorlea,” Orrin replied. “Throughout the year we travel throughout this land. We belong to no kingdom. We make our way peacefully and take part in no wars, and they leave us alone.”

  “No,” Jo said. “Where are we?”

  Orrin’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

  “We’re not from here,” Sunny replied, launching into the story of everything that had happened to them since they’d gotten there.

  Orrin listened carefully, a slight frown on his face.

  When Sunny got to the part about the Swarog, Lizea spat out an odd phrase which Jo assumed was a curse, “Agares bloody bird!”

  “What?” Jo asked, needing an answer. “No one survives the Swarog,” Lizea explained. “He controls the Mistwood, causing hallucinations, luring people to his pond and threatening to feed them to his pets. The only way to get out is to make a deal with him, he collects deals. But only a fool would make a deal with him,” she scolded.

  “A fool who’s alive,” Sunny retorted.

  Lizea tutted in disapproval. “Alive for now, but whatever favor the Swarog calls in will most definitely kill you in the process. He doesn’t assign easy tasks.”

  Sunny shared a fearful look with Jo before getting back to her sto
ry and explaining the rest they had been through, leading up to the dragon.

  “And you know what happened after that,” she finished.

  Orrin, Lizea, and Seren stared at them, wide- eyed. Then Orrin and Lizea both started asking questions at once, and Jo’s head started to ache as their thoughts practically shouted in her mind.

  “So, where are we?” Jo asked. “What is this place? What planet are we on?”

  I can’t believe those words actually passed my lips, she thought. It was a question she’d never planned on asking.

  A light of recognition sparked in Orrin’s eyes. “Our world is called Writhia. You are not from here?”

  Jo and Sunny shook their heads.

  “Then you are from another world. There are people in Writhia with the ability to travel anywhere they wish in the blink of an eye and to send others anywhere they please with a single touch. They are called Travelers, and they are powerful enough to send themselves and others to worlds that are parallel to our own. We know of four alternate worlds, and there is documentation from three. There could be many more, but these are the ones we have found. As far as we know, the fourth world is either extremely dangerous or is a vacuum in which Gifts do not exist. Everyone who has traveled there was unable to travel back. Yet you had no previous knowledge of your Gifts?”

  Jo and Sunny shook their heads again, entranced by his tale.

  “Then you must be from this fourth world, which means there are truly no Gifts there, as I suspected. A Traveler must have brought you, it is the only way for you to have come here. But they would need blood to summon someone from such a vast distance. Has anyone taken your blood recently?”

  “Besides the Swarog? No,” Sunny said as

  Lizea tutted at her again.

  “Then I do not know how you came to Writhia. Tell me, what is the name of your world?” His eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “The place we’re from is called Earth,” Jo told him.

  Orrin smiled as if she’d given him a prize.

  Jo stepped forward boldly and held out her hand. “You said you can absorb information from people. You can take some from me and see what it looks like, if you want. Wait,” she pulled back her hand, “it won’t hurt, right?”

  Orrin gaped at her, astounded. “You would truly share that with me?”

  “As long as it doesn’t hurt,” Jo said, a bit concerned that he hadn’t answered her question.

  He smiled kindly at her. “No, it will not hurt. But I am extremely honored.”

  He reached out, and Jo laid her hand in his. Orrin closed his eyes and breathed in deep. His eyes moved back and forth beneath his lids as if he was reading a book. Jo stood there awkwardly while he clutched her hand for several minutes before opening his eyes.

  “Fascinating,” he breathed, “A whole world, and I am one of three people here who have seen it. What a privilege.”

  Jo felt good that she had done something kind for the man who had helped her and her sister.

  Orrin’s face went back to business mode, and he glanced at Seren, who nodded. “I do not know how to help you any more than I have helped you already. However, I may know someone who will. Seren is a Watcher, capable of seeing future events.”

  Jo and Sunny shared a shocked glance before looking at Seren who blushed and picked his necklace up again.

  “Seren has seen that your path must take you to Vianna, where you will find answers about why you are here,” Orrin told them. “Plus, the Viannese have protocols for dealing with refugees and displaced people. You can eat something before you leave, and Seren has volunteered to take you there.”

  Jo swallowed, "Thank you, Orrin, for everything you've done to help us. But is there any way you could help us get home?" She looked at her sister before saying, "We don't really want to go to Vianna, we want to go home."

  Orrin gave them a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, girls, but we don't know of any Travelers. It is a rare Gift. If we come across any, I will surely ask them to help you." He glanced to the side, "Until then, you will be safe in Vianna."

  Seren frowned at Orrin before turning to Jo and Sunny. "Let's go, if we leave now we can get there before nightfall tomorrow."

  "How will we get there?" Sunny asked.

  Excitement lit Seren's features, "We'll take a transport."

  Chapter 10

  Westin

  Writhia, 5219

  The Lorlean Lands

  It was the most uncomfortable flight Westin had ever been on. He could feel the tension in the air, which he thought odd, given the fact that the passengers were himself, the king, and a young child. They had spent the past several hours in silence. Thankfully, they would reach the Lorlean lands any minute. With the high speed of the trysk, they made good time.

  As soon as they landed, the king stood abruptly, grabbed Zoë's wrist, and stalked off without saying a word.

  Westin sat there dumbfounded and then scurried after them. He wanted to go before the king as his protector, but something in his mind told him not to interfere, that the king knew what he was doing.

  Zoë's head whipped this way and that as she watched the vibrant, busy camp. Westin had always found the hustle and bustle of the Lorlean camps soothing; it reminded him of home. Growing up with his large family, there had never been a dull moment.

  King Azmodeous seemed to know exactly where he was going through the camp. Cautious eyes followed them as they passed.

  The camp seemed to be packing up. Westin watched in fascination as they disassembled their homes. Families gathered around each building, collapsing the walls and roofs neatly into large cubes that could be easily moved. Large transports waited nearby to hitch to the cubes to haul them to their next location.

  As a nomadic people, the Lorlean's only stayed in one place for so long before packing up and leaving. With the coming fall, Westin guessed they would start their journey south soon.

  The king stopped in front of the largest building and cocked his head to the side, concentrating.

  Listening.

  After a moment, he cursed under his breath and stormed inside.

  The leader, a man named Orrin who Westin had seen before at council meetings, already stood at attention. The people surrounding him did as well, looks of contempt and distrust shown on their faces.

  "Orrin, my good man," the king said in the falsely pleasant voice he used with people he didn't care for, "I am looking for two women, and I heard they may have passed through here."

  Of all the tribe’s leaders in the Lorlean lands, the king disliked Orrin the most.

  Once again, Westin wondered why the king wanted to find these strangers so desperately. The king had never personally gone to find someone before. Whoever they were, they must have been important.

  "No one has passed through this camp, save the people who live here," Orrin replied.

  Even Westin could tell the man was lying and, unlike the king, he couldn't read minds.

  Orrin knew of the king’s abilities, therefore, Westin saw the false denial for what it was: an act of rebellion. Why he would need to rebel, Westin had no clue.

  The king smirked, "Pity."

  Orrin crumpled to the ground, clutching his head in pain.

  The king’s face remained impassive, such a small use of his Gift barely required any focus from him at all. Azmodeous' gaze narrowed the tiniest bit, and Orrin screamed out.

  Westin never liked seeing the king search the minds of others for information, but whenever it happened, he found himself strangely distanced.

  The horrible act didn't seem quite as horrible, especially since Westin knew the king wouldn't do this if he had any other choice.

  Beside him, Zoë looked on passively, and he wondered how a child could watch something like this without even flinching.

  Abruptly, a red-haired woman stepped forward, and Orrin’s cries cut off. Westin felt his powers ebb and knew she must be a Queller, using her ability to suppress the powers of others t
o try and stop the king.

  But the king only chuckled. She was not strong enough. Within seconds, the Queller unsheathed the dagger at her waist and stabbed herself in the throat.

  "Jesslyn!" An elderly woman cried out, rushing for the woman's collapsed body. She held her hand to the woman’s throat, but nothing happened. After several moments, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, and Westin knew the woman was dead.

  Suddenly, Westin felt as if he'd been drenched in cold water.

  The sharp tang of fresh blood reached his sensitive nose, and images filled his head at a rapid pace. Like a play in which he was the star, set on fast forward.

  Westin looked back on his past few years as the king’s general and horror struck him as he realized all of the atrocities Azmodeous had committed. As he stood idly by, letting it happen. He looked back at poor Zoë, the dark circles under her eyes and bruises down her arms would've been proof enough of the king's torture, except, he already had proof. Westin could now recall all the times in the king's study when she would fall to the ground, clutching her head. Westin trembled with rage as he remembered every time the king had tortured someone in his presence. He felt his breath quicken in panic when he thought of the people the king had Westin arrest—the people he had him. . .murder.

  Westin was ashamed of himself. How could he call himself an honorable man? Or even look at himself in the mirror? He should've fought it. He should've been better. The memories kept coming faster and faster. Being in the presence of that Queller, the King must not have been able to read everyone’s thoughts and keep everyone compelled at the same time.

  Westin looked around at the devastation of the room, wishing he could do something to help, but knowing he couldn't—not yet. His eyes found Orrin, who was still on the ground, but when he saw his face, his eyes were alert, and he was staring straight at Westin. Westin felt like he knew what had just happened to him, but that couldn’t be possible. Orrin wasn’t a Murmur.