Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light

by Tracy A. Akers

  Dayn gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, while Alicine twisted around to shout a select comment of her own. He yanked her arm, then continued to drag her after him.

  “I can handle him, Alicine,” Dayn said, stopping and jerking her to a halt. “You won’t fight him on my account. Understand?”

  “But Dayn—”

  “No excuses! He’s my problem, not yours.” He glared at Alicine with tempestuous eyes, determined to get his point across. But then he spotted another problem, and it was walking in their direction. The thought of flight returned to his mind momentarily, but the fact that he was melting into a puddle made it nearly impossible.

  Dayn stared dumbly as Falyn headed their way. The girl looked as though she were floating toward them on a soft, dreamy cloud. The scenery behind her seemed to blur as strands of nut-brown hair played in slow motion around her head. Her lavender dress drifted around her body in hazy abandon, accentuating her feminine curves. Dayn sucked in his breath as a quake of nerves rippled through him. He suddenly felt shackled by his large immobile feet. If he could just get them moving, there might still be time for a graceful escape.

  As Falyn drew nearer, Dayn noticed a strand of hair whip across her face. She pushed it back, then reached both hands up to secure the curls that had freed themselves from the thick braid draped across her shoulder. A gust of wind grabbed the ruffled hem of her skirt and floated it up, revealing bits of white petticoat and shapely legs beneath. She pushed the sailing fabric down and held it there.

  Dayn felt his throat go dry as forbidden thoughts rushed to his brain. He groaned, realizing his feelings for her would soon be all too obvious. He stepped behind his sister, but knew his sinfulness would not go unnoticed by the Maker; Daghadar was surely planning a terrible punishment for him at that very moment. Dayn crossed his arms and studied his boots. Maybe if he and Alicine ignored the girl, she would simply walk on. He glanced back up and felt his belly tighten. Alicine had stepped aside and Falyn was now standing in front of him, looking straight at him.

  Dayn grinned sheepishly. Falyn was so beautiful; he could not help but stare. His eyes followed the skin that peeked over her collar to the thick braid cascading over her breast. The sun danced off her hair, highlighting the rare and subtle strands of copper that wound throughout the dark. He turned his gaze to her face and lost himself in her eyes. The golden specks within the brown seemed to sparkle like tiny autumn stars, and for a moment he imagined they were sparkling for him.

  “Dayn, where have you been?” Falyn said. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” She reached out a hand and touched him on the arm.

  “I—buh—the—um—I.” God, he sounded like an idiot.

  Falyn laughed. “What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  Alicine nudged her brother in the ribs, then leaned in toward Falyn, her brows raised. “Oh that’s just Dayn talk for ‘I’m a stupid boy’,” she said.

  The two girls burst into giggles. Dayn’s face went hot.

  “Oh, don’t pick on your brother so,” Falyn said. She turned her gaze to Dayn who was eyeing her up and down. “I know, I look silly in all this, don’t I?” she said, twisting her body and twirling her skirt about her ankles.

  “No! No, I—I think you look very—very nice,” Dayn stammered. Why were the words so hard to get out of his mouth?

  Falyn blushed and looked down at her feet, then up into his eyes. “Well, I am your sister’s handmaiden today, so I had to look special.” Her lips parted in a genuine smile.

  “You always look special,” Dayn said. He bit his lip. Those words had come out easily enough. “No, I mean—”

  “No? I don’t look special?”

  “No—I mean—yes, you do look special. I mean, you usually look special. Like now.” If only the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

  “Why, thank you, Dayn. I think,” Falyn said. “You look very nice, too.” Then she smiled at him, the deep kind of smile that goes beyond everyday courtesies, the kind that holds special meaning, maybe even affection.

  Dayn’s mind raced. What did she mean? What was she saying? Was she just being nice? Did she really think he looked good? Before his befuddled brain could form another question, Alicine interrupted.

  “We’d better get ready. It’s almost time,” she said. She grabbed Falyn’s hand and pulled her toward the dressing area that was draped for privacy behind the stage. The girls waved back at Dayn as they made their way toward it. He lifted a hand in weak response.

  Dayn walked over to the flap to the right of the stage and peeked inside. The stage was carpeted with cloths of yellow and green and was decorated with massive bouquets. The air was filled with a concoction of floral scents mixed with the aroma of ginger cakes and spicy meats. People, all dressed in their colorful finest, filled the massive tent. Some sat on cross-legged stools, others on picnic blankets scattered along the grassy auditorium floor. Still more stood against the back and sides of the cavernous room. The wind billowed the Pavilion walls and roof with low moans followed by quick snaps of canvas, but it could barely be heard over the loud and excited voices of the crowd.

  Dayn saw his parents sitting up front on a blanket with Haskel and Vania. His mother spotted him and motioned for him to join them. Dayn smiled and declined with a polite wave of his hand.

  A small group of musicians sitting to the left of the stage plucked and strummed their instruments in preparation for the upcoming performance. The crowd grew quiet as the bandleader held up his hands, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. A ripple of nervous excitement made its way across the room one final time, ending in hushed whispers.

  The audience watched with rapt attention as Eileis the Spirit Keeper, escorted by a young man who held her arm in his, made her way up the plank steps to the stage. The young man guided her to the center of the platform where he bowed and backed away, leaving her to make her usual greeting to the crowd. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and a smile was stretched across her crinkled face. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen even from the back of the enormous room. It was always the Spirit Keeper’s role to introduce the girl who had been selected, and it was apparent to everyone that she took particular delight in making the introduction this year. Alicine had been her top student for years, a rare thing for a girl from the clans, and her talent in herbology was well known. It was Eileis who had recommended her for Maiden.

  Dayn scanned the room from his spot behind the flap, then glanced over his shoulder at the sparsely populated grounds. He didn’t see Sheireadan amongst the crowd inside the Pavilion and wondered if the boy was still lurking about. But he shook the thought from his mind. What could possibly happen? There were people everywhere.

  “Let us begin with an entreaty to the Maker,” Eileis said. The crowd bowed their heads and folded their hands. “Our most illustrious Daghadar, Maker of all things, Source of all life, Foundation of all knowledge, please grant us on this festival day, hope for a future.”

  Members of the crowd glanced at one another. “What did she mean by that?” whispers could be heard asking.

  She continued without pause. “Open our minds to the truth so that we may follow in the path you have in store for us. Lift the blindness from our eyes, the ignorance from our minds, and the hatred from our hearts. We have feared the fire and hidden ourselves in darkness for too long. Please show us the light so that we may continue in your grace.” She looked up from her folded hands and scanned the room. No one said a word.

  Her eyes rested on Dayn for a moment, not long enough for anyone else to notice, but long enough for him to. She held his gaze with such intensity, that it quickly became clear that it was for him that she had been searching. He replayed the strange words of her prayer in his mind, wondering what in the world they had to do with him. His mind raced back, back to the last time he had seen the Spirit Keeper, that night almost a year ago. She had been a part of it, the conversation that had revealed the
truth to him. He had managed to push Eileis to the back of his mind since then, funneling all his resentments in the direction of his father instead. But now she was looking at him in almost secret communication, and the memory of her role in it swept over him like ice water.

  He stared at the Spirit Keeper as though under her spell. She looked like a bent silhouette against the huge background of fluttering drapes that enshrouded her tiny frame. Her mouth was moving, yet he could hear no sound other than a droning noise like that of a great swarm of bees. The throne-like chairs, floral bouquets, and festive banners decorating the stage began to blur into a whirling spiral. The rest of the room and everyone in it became nonexistent. Dayn was no longer where he was.

  The room grew dark and eerily quiet. Dayn’s common sense told him he was still standing in the Pavilion, but his mind said he was at his bedroom window, its shutters open to the night, the cold air playing at his neck. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders and leaned his elbows upon the sill, gazing out at the once-bright stars now pale in the approaching light of morning. He looked down, startled by voices on the porch. It was his father and Eileis, and they were arguing. He felt uneasy, as if this had happened before.

  “How can you even suggest such a thing, Eileis,” his father said. “No! I can’t do it.”

  “It’s time to tell him,” Eileis said.

  “Why? What good could come of it?”

  “He already suspects.”

  “But he doesn’t know. And as far as I’m concerned, he never will.”

  “Dayn must be told the truth. You can’t keep the secret buried in a cave forever,” Eileis said.

  There was an uneasy hush. Dayn leaned further out the window.

  “I can’t do it,” Gorman said. “I couldn’t bear to hurt the boy.”

  “He hurts every day. If anything, you would ease his pain.”

  “But to tell him . . .” Gorman’s voice cracked.

  “It will be difficult, but you knew the day would come when you would have to.”

  “But to tell him he’s not our child, not our flesh and blood?”

  “He’s your child in every way that matters,” Eileis said. “He’ll recognize this. You must have faith in him. If he learns the truth from someone other than you, the damage could be worse, much worse.”

  “How do I make him understand, Eileis? Do I defend it? Tell him I rescued him from his demon-witch mother? And what if he wants to go back to the mountains? What then?”

  “Gorman, you must leave Dayn’s fate to Daghadar. The Maker has a plan for him, as He does for us all. But we must be patient. We must let it play out.”

  “Play out?” Gorman’s anger was building, but he kept his voice low. “I’ve carried the burden of this for fifteen years and can barely live with myself for it. And now I’m to just tell him and then sit back and let it play out? He’s only a boy. What will this do to him?”

  “It will free him,” Eileis said.

  Dayn felt the familiar pain return, the old wound reopened. He stumbled back across his room toward the bed.

  “So,” his inner voice whispered, “it’s true. I am—”

  “Demon spawn!”

  The hissing voice at Dayn’s back jerked him into reality. He wheeled around, trembling, and stared into the face behind the voice—Sheireadan. The boy stood before him, his beefy fists clenching and unclenching as his jaw readied for a cruel assault of words. Dayn’s chest rose and fell to the drumbeats of the music now playing in the background.

  “You here to spy on my sister?” Sheireadan asked. He took a threatening step forward.

  “No, I’m here to see Alicine," Dayn replied, taking a step back.

  Sheireadan glanced past Dayn toward the platform where the Summer Maiden and her entourage now stood. “I saw you talking to Falyn earlier, cave slime. I’ve warned you to stay away from her, haven’t I?”

  “She just came up to talk to Alicine. I hardly said anything. Barely three words.”

  The music skipped to a new tune, a traditional folksong. The crowd cheered and clapped, crooning the well-known lyrics.

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter, I guess,” Sheireadan said, his voice straining to be heard over the merriment. “From now on you’ll not have more than a few words with her or any other girl for that matter.”

  “What—what do you mean?”

  “Simple. My father, as well as every other father in Kirador, has already decided it.”

  The tempo of the music began to build. Strange, Dayn thought, how it didn’t match the tempo building in his gut. “Decided what?” he managed.

  “No man will ever let you court his daughter, much less marry her. It’s already been decided. Everyone knows it. I’m surprised your father hasn’t mentioned it. He’ll have a farmhand for life.” Sheireadan laughed. “Too bad the only girl you’re ever going to have in your life is your sister. No marital bed for you with her. But then again, since she can’t be your real sister, I suppose it’s possible you and she could—”

  Dayn’s eyes bulged. An uncontrollable heat washed through him as well as an uncontrollable hatred. He had never felt this sort of rage before. At that moment he felt as though he could kill the boy right then and there. Dayn puffed up his chest and raised a fist to strike.

  Sheireadan’s face went gray. “Stay back!” he ordered. His eyes darted around.

  Dayn laughed, the same kind of cruel laugh he had heard from Sheireadan so many times before. “Stay back? Stay back? No, I will not stay back! You say I’m a demon. Well, you’re right, Sheireadan. I am a demon. It’s true. I’ll not deny it.” Dayn twisted his face into an evil grimace and moved in as if for the kill. “Do you know what happens when a demon gets angry?”

  Sheireadan shook his head and retreated slowly.

  “He reaches into a man’s chest and rips out his soul by the roots. And then do you know what happens? The demon grinds it between his teeth and swallows it . . . piece . . . by piece . . . by piece.” Dayn grinned a wicked grin, his face contorted into demonic proportions. Sheireadan’s eyes widened, further fueling Dayn’s desire to see him suffer at last. “And what becomes of the poor victim?” Dayn continued. “He roams the mountains for all eternity, a minion of the demon who devoured his soul.” Dayn leaned in. “Would you like to be my minion, Sheireadan? A slave to do my bidding? Would you?”

  Sheireadan jumped back and lost his balance, falling hard on his backside into the dirt. “Get away from me!” he cried as he crawled in backward, crablike motions.

  Dayn straightened up, his fists still primed. “You’re not so brave when your pack isn’t with you.”

  Sheireadan scrambled up and headed for the path that led from the Pavilion. Then he stopped and turned, pointing a threatening finger Dayn’s way. “I swear, demon, you’ll regret forever that you ever stepped foot in Kirador. My father and the others will see to it you and your family never come around decent folk again!” And with that he ran through the sparse crowd and out to the festival grounds beyond.

  Dayn closed his eyes and worked to calm his ragged breaths. He couldn’t believe he had just beaten Sheireadan, but his joy was short-lived when he realized that what had been said between them was true, except for the soul-eating part. He glanced between the crack of the flap and saw Falyn on the stage. His heart fell like a stone.

  The inevitability of his future flashed before him and it was terrifyingly lonely. He would never be allowed to take a wife or have a family of his own. He truly would be a farmhand to his parents for life. Now that he had revealed himself as a demon, he was more certain of it than ever. Word was sure to spread—Sheireadan would see to that—and Dayn knew his family would be made to suffer. The Vestry would hold meetings; decisions would have to be made. Would Eileis be able to defend him and his family? He couldn’t take a chance. He couldn’t risk harm to his family, no matter what his parents had done.

  He pushed back the flap and turned his gaze to the stage, expecting to see his sist
er beaming at the crowd. But her eyes were focused on him, and she was not beaming. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction, then turned her attention back to the audience, forcing a smile for their benefit. She looked back at him and mouthed a silent word of inquiry.

  Dayn could tell from the expression on Alicine’s face that she had seen something of the altercation; the slit in the canvas would have revealed bits of it to her from where she sat on the throne. He knew he must have looked demon-like and hated that she may have seen him, seen him for what he really was.

  “Please try to understand, Alicine,” he whispered. He raised his hand in farewell, fighting the tangle of emotions pulsing through him. This was probably the last time he would ever see her.

  Alicine’s eyes widened. She seemed to understand that he was leaving, but she was trapped by her maidenly duties. She was not yet crowned, and for her to leap from the stage and rush toward him would be unacceptable, especially in front of all these people. She fixed her eyes upon him as if by doing so she could prevent him from going.

  Dayn turned and let the flap drop behind him. For a moment he stood transfixed, consumed by the reality of what he was about to do. He looked toward the outskirts of the festival grounds, then to the meadows beyond. His eyes followed the sea of grasses that danced with the wind, then upward toward the checkered hillsides leading to the mountains.

  “That’s where I’ll go,” he said to himself. “I’ll follow the river to the mountains. Then I’ll go to the cave where...”

  He began to walk, slowly at first, then more quickly past tents, vendors, and wagons. He dared not look anyone in the eye for fear of being stopped. He pressed on, his shoulders hunched against the wind, working his way through tall meadow grasses, navigating a path through mazes of wheat and barley and corn. At last he reached a rocky crest, and it was there that he paused to gaze down at Kiradyn one last time. No looking back, he told himself. He turned his attention back to the mountains. A gust of wind spiraled around his body, whipping his hair and stinging his eyes. Dayn . . . it seemed to whisper. Dayn . . . He pulled his collar up over his ears and forced his feet forward.