Hunt for the Sun Children

Chapter 8 - Rise

Master Fells's lecture pierced through my concentration. It was the last week before the solstice, and, consequently, his last push to prepare us for our aural assessments. My mind, however, was anywhere but on aurals; I was still trying to digest the implications of being the Riser or Setter.

As we lined up for another drill, I tried to concentrate less on my technique and more on my connection with the water. The line shuffled forward and soon enough I was at the front of it. Master Fells sent a swirling sphere straight at me and I deflected it in a heartbeat. Was I controlling the water, or the light and shadows reflecting in the water? I had no idea. Like Master Fells had said before, we were still newborns. Casting was a language we were just beginning to learn, and although I could say a few words, that didn't mean I could read them.

Frustrated and exhausted, I channeled my pent up frustration into fire-style punches in Basic Self-Defense. The blows were fast and brutal and brought me up close to the pad. I lost myself for a moment in the punches. No Jay, no sun children, just the stinging impact of my knuckles on compacted straw.

I didn't realize that everyone was staring until Shayde, who was holding the pad, lost her balance and stumbled backward, barely catching herself from falling. I stepped away, breathing harder than I had realized, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. She shoved the pad into my hands and swept to the back of the line like a frigid gust of wind.

Master Rose, ever a proponent of hands-on lectures and gruesome stories, arrived late as usual with a mysterious tub of black tarrik. She clomped it down on the round table at the center of the room and a second later its characteristic sweet stench hit us. A few novices gagged.

"Come hither!" she trilled. "Can anyone tell me what this substance is?"

My hand shot into the air just before Shayde's. She folded her arms across her chest as if she had had no intention of answering the question.

"Rayne?"

"Tarrik," I said, "is a chemical secreted by several Waste creatures. When cornered, they spit tarrik as a last line of defense."

"Hear that, everyone? Might be a question for your aurals!" She clapped her hands. "Now, line up! We're going to get a real appreciation for the stuff!"

Morbid curiosity drew me toward the tarrik. The majority of the novices, however, hung back, watching warily. Master Rose tsked at everyone who remained seated. "Come now! This is fun!"

That was an exaggeration. I watched as the first girl dipped her hand into the goo. Her fingers were instantly bound together. She tried to scrape it off with her other hand, and it was ensnared as well.

Several novices stepped back from the tarrik. Despite the resistance, Master Rose was determined to see her atypical lesson through to completion. "Come now, get up. It won't hurt you as long as you don't go poking your eyes with it."

I gingerly dipped two fingers into the warm goo, carefully maneuvering the rest of my hand to keep the binding substance separate. As expected, it was impossible to break my fingers apart. I searched for any hint of water in the sticky mess, but I couldn't form a connection to anything in it.

"I'm sorry dear," Master Rose said to someone behind me, "you have to take off your pretty little rings."

"No, thank you," Kiki said as politely as possible, but there was a bite to her voice. If Master Rose was anything, though, she was relentless.

"If one of them touches the tarrik, you're likely to lose it or even have it bound permanently to your hand. I must insist you remove them."

"Then I guess I won't be participating," Kiki said, cutting out of the line and heading for the door. Jules made a move to follow after her, but she held him back with a gentle hand. "It's okay. I just have a bad headache. I'm going to the Mendery."