Sunweaver

by Ryan W. Mueller

  Contents

  Chapter 1: The Missing Sunlord

  Chapter 2: Forbidden Talents

  Chapter 3: The Dying Sunlamps

  Chapter 4: A Dangerous Secret

  Chapter 5: The Path of Exile

  Chapter 6: The Slave Auction

  Chapter 7: A Secret Meeting

  Chapter 8: The Mission Begins

  Chapter 9: A New World

  Chapter 10: The Fate of the Lightless

  Chapter 11: The Snow Knife Mountains

  Chapter 12: The Frozen Lands

  Chapter 13: The Plantation

  Chapter 14: The Brotherhood of Fire

  Chapter 15: The Lost Scriptures

  Chapter 16: The Secret of the Sunlamps

  Chapter 17: The New Sunlord

  Chapter 18: Betrayal

  Chapter 19: The Missing Page

  Chapter 20: Atarin

  Chapter 21: New Powers

  Chapter 22: Traitors

  Chapter 23: A Foiled Plan

  Chapter 24: The Palace

  Chapter 25: Faina's Secrets

  Chapter 26: The Guarded Corridor

  Chapter 27: The Escape Attempt

  Chapter 28: The Sunlord's Prison

  Chapter 29: Fugitives

  Chapter 30: A Deadly Enemy

  Chapter 31: The Condemned

  Chapter 32: An Offer of Aid

  Chapter 33: The Battle of the Brotherhood

  Chapter 34: The Duel

  Chapter 35: Dangerous Plans

  Chapter 36: Saying Farewell

  Chapter 37: In the Dungeon

  Chapter 38: The Journey South

  Chapter 39: A Secret Revealed

  Chapter 40: The Gates of Haladel

  Chapter 41: The Final Mission

  Chapter 42: Halarik

  Chapter 43: A World Changed

  Chapter 1: The Missing Sunlord

  The sun was dying, and Deril could do nothing about it.

  He shivered in the chill air, looking up at the dim white sun, at the gray sky that mirrored his mood. Closing his eyes, he began his daily prayer to Aralea.

  Please, Aralea, grant me the powers of a Sunlord. Let me follow in my father's footsteps. I can't keep living like this. The expectations, the failure, the looks people give me in the corridors—it's all too much. I feel like I'm going to break under the pressure. Why did you keep these powers from me?

  Deril had tried too long to keep his anger concealed. He no longer cared. Aralea had done little to help him, little to help anyone in Tarileth. She deserved his anger.

  Please, if you can't make me a Sunlord, give me some way I can prove myself. Some way I can make a difference. That's all I ask. When he finished praying, he was nearly in tears.

  He opened his eyes and shivered again despite the chamber's Sunlamps. The world could not survive on Sunlamps alone. That much was obvious. It needed Deril's father, needed Deril. Fifteen years he'd trained alongside his twin brother Karik. Fifteen years and neither of them was a Sunlord.

  They had failed, and their failure would doom the world.

  At the open door, Deril passed his friend Tiran, one of the temple's Sun Guards. Tiran wore a golden surcoat lined with fur. Deril avoided his friend's gaze, hoping he could also avoid the shame burning within him.

  Tiran put a hand on Deril's shoulder. "Did you find luck with the goddess?"

  Deril barked a laugh. "I think you already know the answer to that."

  "You'll find your powers one day."

  The encouragement sounded false, but Tiran was only trying to be a good friend. The kind of friend Deril didn't deserve, for he brooded too often and spent most of his time obsessing over his training, hoping he'd missed something that would unlock his powers.

  Hoping for a dream that seemed more elusive every day.

  "Perhaps I will," Deril said. But never in the history of Tarileth had a Sunlord come into their powers after age twenty, and Deril was twenty-five.

  "You don't believe that," Tiran said.

  "It isn't easy to live with this burden."

  "Maybe you need to do something different with your training," Tiran said, following Deril through the stone corridors. "Are you sure your father hasn't missed something?"

  "It doesn't matter. It shouldn't be this hard." Deril thought of all the evenings he'd spent in the temple's library, reading every book they had on Sunweaving theory. It was possible that no one knew as much about Sunweaving as he did. So the fault had to lie with him.

  It didn't matter what anyone said. Deril was not a Sunlord.

  "I hate seeing you like this," Tiran said. "You used to be much happier."

  "I was a child back then, and I thought I would come into my powers one day." Deril shook his head. "I don't know how Karik manages to stay so upbeat. If I didn't know better, I'd say he doesn't care about being a Sunlord. But how can he not care?"

  "I'm sure he cares," Tiran said as they rounded a corner. He was about to say something else, but then a scream came from a nearby corridor, followed by a low rumble. Deril started toward the sound, hanging close to the golden-brown walls. A series of faint vibrations echoed, growing ever softer. What in the core was happening?

  Tiran clutched at Deril's arm. "Be careful. You're too important to risk yourself."

  Too important. That was the last thing he'd call himself, the last thing he deserved to be called. He rushed through the temple's wide stone corridors, Tiran at his side. The rumble didn't sound again; the vibrations had ceased.

  They rounded a corner and came upon the bodies of two Sun Guards, who lay on the floor in pools of blood, their heads resting a few feet away. They'd been guarding the Sun Chamber, where Deril's father was using his Sunlord powers to strengthen the sun.

  If something had happened to Deril's father—

  No. His father had to be alive. He was the only Sunlord left.

  Tiran grasped Deril's shoulder. "Stay out here."

  "No. We can defend ourselves better if we stick together."

  "All right," Tiran said, but he frowned as he pushed through the heavy stone door, entering the Sun Chamber. Deril followed, offering a silent prayer to Aralea—more for his father's safety than his own.

  The chamber was empty.

  At its other side, a gaping hole had opened in the wall. There was no blood on the floor, but someone had kidnapped the Sunlord, taking advantage of the weakness he experienced after fueling the sun for a few hours.

  But who would kidnap the Sunlord? Without him, humanity would die.

  "We need to inform Captain Hanir," Tiran said.

  "I'm going after them. There might still be a chance to save my father."

  "No," Tiran said. "You don't know what you're facing."

  "We don't know what they intend either. If they're Fireweavers, they might be crazy enough to do anything, even kill him. We can't take that risk. You inform Hanir. I'm going."

  "Well, I can't stop you," Tiran said. "But please be careful."

  "I'll do what I can." Deril raced to the other side of the Sun Chamber, then through the hole in the wall.

  The temple stood on a flat portion of a small mountain overlooking the city of Hyrandel, so whoever had kidnapped Deril's father had to go down the mountain. In addition, dozens of Sun Guards patrolled the perimeter of the temple grounds, and a wall surrounded the temple.

  How could anyone get through?

  A light blanket of snow covered the rocky mountain, though it was too warm today for more to fall. Deril held his cloak tight about his shoulders and sprinted through the snow. The wheels of a horse-drawn wagon had left small indentations. Deril followed the tracks around the south side of the temple until he reached the enormous stone gate.

  Closed. Of course. And the wheel tracks
traveled right through it, past the two Sun Guards stationed there.

  "Is everything all right?" asked one of them, a dark-haired young woman.

  Deril tried to catch his breath. "Did you let a wagon through here?"

  "Yes, my lord," said the other guard, an older man. "It was your brother's wagon."

  "My brother?" Deril said. What in the core did Karik have to do with this? Perhaps someone had kidnapped him as well, and forced him to act as though everything were all right.

  "Nothing seemed amiss," said the first guard, shifting her stance nervously. She shrank away from Deril's gaze as though he intimidated her.

  "Well, someone kidnapped my father," he said, "and perhaps my brother as well. However they managed to do it, they got away in that wagon."

  The man looked pale, but he maintained a calm mask. "Does Captain Hanir know about this?"

  "Tiran's telling him," Deril said. "But we're running out of time. Open the damn gate."

  He banged on the stone, and pain shot through his fist.

  "Of course, my lord," said the woman, regaining a little composure. The two guards, talented at Yellow/Green Sunweaving, focused on the gate, and it rumbled open. Deril dashed through the opening as soon as he could fit, ignoring the guards' cries for caution. Their booted steps sounded behind him, but he didn't wait.

  A winding road led down the mountain. Deril peered over the nearest cliff and caught movement far below, passing between clusters of evergreen trees.

  It was the wagon, but how could he catch them?

  In theory, a weave of Yellow and Blue could shield a person from a fall, but Deril had never tested that theory himself. He took a deep breath and drew on his light reserves, weaving the colors inside him with ease. The air shimmered as the shield surrounded him like a giant bubble.

  He leapt off the cliff.

  His stomach lurched as he plummeted. The drop had to be at least two hundred feet, and he prayed he wouldn't get tangled in the trees, though they might cushion the fall.

  At last, he hit the rocky road, and sharp pain exploded in his legs. The world flared into brightness as he crumpled in a heap, feeling so much pain he thought he'd pass out. Well, his shield had softened the impact, but not enough, and now the wagon would get away.

  Idiot, he thought, nearly overcome by the pain. But he couldn't have lived with himself if he hadn't tried. If only he'd practiced this ability with shorter falls first.

  He had no idea how long he lay there, lost in troubled thoughts, trying to distract himself from the pain. His thoughts only made it worse.

  What would happen if his father died? Deril and Karik couldn't fuel the sun. All the other potential Sunlords had died under mysterious circumstances. Deril's father always tried to shrug that concern aside, but Deril could see it in the lines on his face, could feel it in the tension that hung in the air every time they discussed Deril's failures.

  Deril tried to stand, but searing pain shot through his legs. He fell to the ground, tears streaming down his face. He had failed, and now the world would suffer.

  Its last hope was a prisoner in that wagon.

  No. Deril couldn't let that happen. He crawled to the edge of the rocky path, feeling as if he'd pass out from the pain, and looked down to watch the wagon's progress. It was heading south, away from the city.

  Deril closed his eyes, weaving Blue and Purple within him.

  Captain Hanir, he said in his thoughts, directing the weave toward the temple.

  The response came a moment later. What is it, Deril?

  The wagon is heading south toward the Frozen Lands. You need to get every Sun Guard you can find on its trail. He hesitated a moment. I also need some help. I've broken my legs.

  Don't worry, Hanir sent. I'll handle everything. You've done well.

  Deril terminated the weave. Done well, he thought bitterly. I've failed in every way imaginable. But as he sat there on the cold, rocky ground, he realized that others had failed as well. The Sun Guard had sworn to protect the Sunlord.

  Captain Hanir had to feel even worse than Deril. At least Deril might have an excuse. Perhaps he truly did lack the talent to become a Sunlord, and that was something he couldn't control, the way he'd been born.

  If only that could have comforted him.

  A few minutes later, he was reclined in the back of a wooden wagon moving gently along the mountain slope. Tiran leaned against the side of the open wagon, and two Sun Guards sat in the front, leading the horses up the slope.

  Deril moaned as he set up, his legs stretched out in front of him. "I feel like I've been to see Halarik."

  "What did you expect?" Tiran said, giving him a scathing look. "You jumped off a mountain."

  "I thought my shield would work better."

  Tiran barked a laugh. "Well, that's obvious."

  Deril's legs felt like they were on fire. "How bad am I?"

  "It's nothing some time with a good healer shouldn't fix."

  "At least we know one of those," Deril said, fighting a wave of dizziness. Watching the movement of the trees to their left made him feel sick. "Have you received any word on my father?"

  "Don't worry about him right now. You need to rest."

  "You know I'm not going to rest," Deril said, fighting back his anger. "Tell me."

  Tiran remained silent a long time, looking away. Damn him. Deril didn't need to hear the news to know it wasn't good. It was just like Tiran, though—always the voice of caution.

  "All right," Tiran said. "They got away, probably to the south, away from the city." He drummed his fingers against his thigh. "But we'll catch them. We've sent word to every corner of the country. They can't escape all the guards."

  "I have the feeling they will," Deril said. "They're headed to the Frozen Lands."

  "You think Fireweavers are behind this?"

  The cart moved over a rough section of rock, jostling them. The pain in Deril's legs intensified, like someone was stabbing him with a hot knife. "Who else would kidnap my father?"

  "But there's no way Fireweavers could gain access to the temple."

  "Perhaps you're right," Deril said as the pain dulled. He had no answer for that hole in his theory. Sun Guards could use a weave of Orange and Yellow to detect the enhanced heat fields around Fireweavers.

  Unless the Fireweavers were careful not to use their powers.

  Still, most Fireweavers were outlaws in Tarileth. Those who didn't escape to the Frozen Lands faced execution. How could a group of them operate so efficiently and inconspicuously right in the heart of Tarileth, gaining access to the most important temple in the world?

  At last, the wagon stopped before the open gate, where two Sun Guards carefully positioned Deril on a large, flat slab of stone. Even so, Deril's pain exploded. His head swam, and the sunlight seemed strangely bright as the Sun Guards carried him back into the temple, passing up the grand stairs, through the large entrance, and along the wide stone corridors.

  They entered one of the temple's bathing chambers. The two Sun Guards stripped Deril of everything but his undergarments and placed him in a large stone tub full of water heated by Red Suncasting. Tiran followed the entire time, looking on with concern.

  Concern for Deril's father, for the entire world. Not for Deril, who'd be all right.

  Deril tried to ignore the pain as he reclined in the tub. A few minutes of agony later, his mother Erine entered the room.

  "How's my foolish son?" she asked lightly, but he could see fear in her blue eyes. "Jumping off a cliff. Even your father never tried that one."

  "I know it was stupid," Deril said. "Can you just heal me already?"

  She placed her hands on his legs, closed her eyes, and did a Blue Suncasting. Deril's pain abated, and the tension in his body eased. He sank back in the tub, exhaling with relief. A dull ache remained, but he could handle it.

  She stood. "Feeling better?"

  "Much better—at least physically." He sat up, his underclothing drenched. Cool air
hit him, and he shivered despite the warmth of the Sunlamps.

  "You need to rest," his mother said. "The healing process is not complete."

  Deril climbed out of the tub, his legs complaining a little. "There's no time to rest, not with Father missing."

  "It's not your duty to rescue him," she said. "You might be our only hope should something happen to him, especially since Karik is gone as well." She looked away, shaking her head. "Let the Sun Guard do their job. They're good at it."

  Deril wavered on his legs, grimacing against a dull ache. "The Sun Guards lack my Sunweaving talent. I might not be a Sunlord, but I'm the best man for this task."

  "Your mother's right," Tiran said, resting a hand on Deril's shoulder. "You can barely stand right now. What good do you think you'll do? We don't even know where they've gone."

  "Yes, we do," Deril said, brushing Tiran's hand away. Why didn't anyone believe Deril? Yes, there were elements in Tarileth that strove for political gain, especially among the Sunweaver Council, but everyone respected the Sunlord. Only Fireweavers, those whose powers came from Halarik, would be insane enough to threaten the entire world.

  "You only have a suspicion," Tiran said. "We need proof before we act."

  "Then I'll find that proof," Deril said, clenching his fists. He took a few deep breaths. "That shouldn't require me to exert myself too much. I'll be careful."

  Tiran gave him a sharp look. "You just jumped off a cliff. Forgive me if I don't believe you."

  "You're too valuable," Deril's mother said, avoiding his gaze as though she were hiding something.

  Deril walked to the other side of the room, turning away from both of them. The pair of Sun Guards stood nearby. They probably thought him insane, and maybe he was. He shouldn't have taken such a risk.

  He turned back to his mother. "I'm not going to be a Sunlord."

  "You don't know that," she said, shooting him a fiery look. The kind of look he'd seen too much. She'd always favored Karik.

  "Yes, I do."

  "But you're the only hope we have," she said. "It won't be Karik."

  Deril narrowed his eyes and tested the strength of his legs. They seemed to be recovering, but it would be a few days before they returned to normal.

  "Why not Karik?" he asked. "He's always been more talented than I."