Page 9 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“Sera, Sera!”
Saiya jerked on Apattar’s arm, breaking the spell placed over the woman. She blinked; the desert rushed back, people pushing up against her, cramming into the square clear only moments before. “It’s about to start, the show! Come on, let’s get a better view.”
Apattar followed Saiya without complaint, trying to understand why the face made her feel such sorrow, but her thoughts soon scattered. After finding a ladder up to one of the flat roofs overlooking the fountain, the two women settled down to watch the show. Apattar looked around, taking in the smiling faces of those around her.
A tall, black-haired man with a mess of curls and a beard framing mournful, gray eyes seemed to watch Apattar’s every move. Their gaze connected, and the sounds of the Market faded. The faintest twinge of a smile lifted the corner of the stranger’s mouth. Apattar fell into his eyes, searching for something that seemed so oddly familiar. But even as the man drew her in, a deep ache settled in her heart, grief mixing with a fiery rage to rival that of the sun itself.
You will end me. What is this, why are you pulling at me? Let me go!
A booming voice broke their connection. Apattar’s gaze shifted to the southern end of the fountain square, and the rage subsided.
“Welcome, my friends! Let me offer respite for a moment. A chance to see the beauty of the First Harmonic, a fragment of the powers used to shape the earth we stand upon and the air we breathe. Many of you know me, but for those who don’t: I am Tylei the Greenweaver, at your service!”
A lithe woman with light brown skin—silvery blue hair piled in knotted coils on top of her head—stood on a stage opposite the fountain. She wore a pale blue dress, plain and unremarkable, but something about her drew everyone in. The tell-tale mark of waveweavers, ones who had the natural talent—or education—to manipulate the world’s harmonics.
All, except Apattar. Why had the guards not sensed her? Pushing the question aside, Apattar tucked a stray black braid behind her ear and settled in to watch the show, ready to see what powers might amaze her.
Butterflies made of sunlight floated in the air, ethereal doves of cloud and mist cooed overhead from canopies and rooftops, and strange creatures like tiny cats with wings flew from person to person. A talented Greenweaver, Tylei wove threads of her harmonic together with the world to create life.
As the show wore on, Apattar looked for the man with soft gray eyes, but he disappeared into the crowds. Though she couldn’t say why, she almost missed his presence.
The sun hung low in the sky when the show ended. The masses filtered out to the rest of the city, back to their segregated districts to wait out the shadowy night. It brought a strange thrill to pretend to be one of the commoners, rubbing shoulders with those considered unclean and only fit to serve. Oh, what would her father think! Apattar wanted to stay here forever.
All too soon, the sky began to darken as the sun started its long goodbye. The hours spent with Saiya brought a sense of happiness that had long eluded Apattar.
Tired and leaden feet trudged back across the colorful bridge, through the gatehouse, and down the secret path to the back of the Isht’iri Estate. With the promise of another escape, Saiya left Apattar in the gathering dusk.
Apattar knew just how long the night ahead would be after tasting life in the sun. Resolved to find one last moment of happiness before the heavy tap of her father’s cane came at her door, Apattar gazed at the Fountain of Maidens in the Market. She could remember with perfect clarity its sweet and sorrowful sound.
five
Little Cub
Therat tucked a looseblack curl behind his ear, then thumbed the smooth, rounded stone in his palm, letting the weight settle into his calloused hand. With a flick of his wrist, it flew across Lake Anataerl, kissing the water three, four, now five times before sinking into the depths below. He pulled another rock from a pouch tied around his waist, yelling as he hurledit through the air. It felt good to let out the rage bubbling over inside.
Nights like this gave Therat the only release he could find from grief and the whispers yearning for retribution. Sixteen years and one day ago, he lived a life much like any other child in Av Madhira, with a heart full of love and a head filled with wild fantasies. Those days felt like the stolen memory of someone else.
Another rock whistled through the crisp evening air. The Withergreen months faded into the Moondark, bringing with them cool nights. Yet, they did not reinvigorate Therat—much to his demise. The gnawing thoughts of the bodies left in his past grew louder with each passing day. A tainted heart beat within his chest, the man a walking bundle of ravenous shadows and haunting memories of unending sorrow.
“You cannot throw away the pain,neha.” A wrinkled, warm brown hand stroked the back of Therat’s neck. He turned to see his grandfather looking up with sorrow in his pale violet eyes. “It hurts more today than most days, I know.”
Therat recoiled from his grandfather’s touch, face twisting into a snarl. “Does it? How could you know what I feel? At least you knew my parents! I barely have enough to even remember their faces!” With a howl, the stone in Therat’s hand hurtled through the air before crashing into the calm lake. A chorus of dogs replied in the distance, then all fell quiet again.
For too many years everyone told Therat they understood his pain to one degree or another. They lost a child, a sibling, or a parent to old age. But no one could even begin to relate. Who else became an orphan and lost themselves in the same night? How many others felt tainted, knew the taste of murderous rage and bitter hatred lurking in the darkest parts of night? Despite their torment, Therat still found solace in the shadows when only the faint silver moon lit up the world below.
Therat’s grandfather stepped back, voice still full of warmth as he spoke. “You are angry, as is your right, but you need not push me away.”
It is for your own good. For everyone. Even hers. Even if she did smile at me, even if her eyes captivated my heart and made the world fade.
“Then just leave me alone so I don’t have to. You have given enough of your life to me, Papa.” Therat took a step back, letting the cool lake water lap at his heels. He tried to focus on the sensation and ignore the anger of his grieving heart.
“I would give it all to help you heal, Therat. I love you, you know this, yes, Little Cub? Come here, come.” The older man spread his arms wide, waiting for his grandson to come to him.
Therat’s heart softened hearing the name his mother once called him those many years ago. Of course his grandfather meant no harm. A thin smile crept into the corners of his lips. He stepped forward, embracing the old man.
Nazith had an indescribable and comforting aroma: a mix of ripe mangoes, dirt, and something impossible to place, like a rainstorm during the darkest hours of night. Therat sank deep into wiry russet brown arms that never seemed to falter. Even on the day when the twins returned to Av Madhira, and Nazith learned he lost his daughter and son by marriage, Therat saw no tears fall from his eyes. A fountain of strength, the man bent with age set aside his grief for his twin grandsons.
Therat knew this. He tried to make the anger he had toward the world disappear. No one could fully understand his pain, but he did not need to suffer alone. His grandfather understood the best anyone could. Hailing from a line with a unique blood gift, Nazith first taught Therat’s mother, Renata, how to shadewalk as a girl. After her tragic death, when nothing made sense in the world, shadewalking with his grandfather gave Therat a small sense of comfort. They spent hours on the shores of the greatLake Anataerl each night, honing his skills and unknowingly helping Therat contain the hunger lurking in his mind.
