Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light by Tracy A. Akers Page B

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 sister 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