Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light
Read Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light Online
Authors: Tracy A. Akers
Tags: #teen, #sword sorcery, #young adult, #epic, #cousins, #slavery, #labeling, #superstition, #coming of age, #fantasy, #royalty, #romance, #quest, #adventure, #social conflict, #mysticism, #prejudice, #prophecy, #mythology, #twins
Praise for
The Fire and the Light
:
Book One of The Souls of
Aredyrah Series
“The Fire and the Light is a spellbinder, a
book to treasure, a novel of rare power and originality, brimming
with, yes, fire and light. Its fascinating multi-layered plot
examines, in mythological terms, a societal system webbed in
isolationism and superstition. Sensitive and richly textured, the
lives of its vividly-realized characters achieve compelling
dimension as they struggle to break free of the prejudices and lies
that have distorted their existence…Here’s a classic in the
making.”
~William F. Nolan, award-winning author of
the
Logan’s Run
series
“The Fire and the Light is a fast-paced and
intriguing story that wears its message of tolerance and compassion
lightly.”
~Kate Constable, author of the
Chanters of Tremaris
series
“…fast-paced, interesting, and fun for
readers of all ages.”
~Leslie Halpern, author of
Dreams on Film
“A poignant epic fable, highly recommended
for all ages.”
~Midwest Book Review
“Akers creates a wonderfully developed world
that you are swept into, with a plot that immediately demands your
attention. Her characters are richly developed, their personalities
and emotions clearly depicted… [the dialogue] makes you believe in
the characters and leaves the impression that you are right in the
story with them…This is a must read for fantasy lovers of all
ages.”
~Gregg J. Haugland, Allbook Reviews
“The Fire and the Light is a beguiling novel,
with compelling characters and a plot that will keep you turning
the pages to the end and then asking for more.”
~E. Rose Sabin, award winning author
of
A School for Sorcery
“A fantastic young adult fantasy! Highly
recommended!"
~USABookNews.com
Awards & Recognitions
for
The Fire and the Light
Eric Hoffer Awards 2007
1st Place Winner, Young Adult Fiction
Allbook Reviews 2007
Winner: Editor’s Choice Award, Young Adult
Fiction
Florida Book Awards 2006
Bronze Medal Winner, Young Adult
Literature
New York Book Awards 2007
1st Runner Up, Teenage Literature
Writers Digest International Self-Published
Book Awards 2007
Honorable Mention, Middle-School/YA
Literature
ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards
2006
Honorable Mention, Young Adult Fiction
National Indie Excellence 2007 Book
Awards
Finalist, Young Adult Fiction
National Indie Excellence 2007 Book
Awards
Finalist, Fantasy and Science Fiction
USABookNews, Best Books 2006
Finalist, Young Adult Fiction and
Literature,
The Fire and the Light is on the Florida
Department of Education’s 2008
Just Read Families Recommended Summer
Reading List
The Fire and the Light
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2006, 2010, 2011 by Tracy A.
Akers
All rights reserved under United States,
International and
Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any
information storage or retrieval system -except for brief quotes
used in reviews- without the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
Ruadora Publishing
P.O. Box 3212
Zephyrhills, FL 33539
Cover Art: Annah Hutchings; copyright © Tracy
A. Akers
Book One of The Souls of
Aredyrah Series
The Fire and the
Light
by
Tracy A. Akers
Chapter
17:
Princes and Warriors
Chapter
18:
The Other Side of the Bars
Chapter
24:
The Quick and the Dead
Chapter 25: The Fire and the Light
Preview of Book Two: The Search
for the Unnamed One
MAP of AREDYRAH
Chapter
1: Dayn
D
ayn barreled down
the rain-drenched street, mud caking his boots and splashing his
trousers. Shouts rose and fell as pedestrians scrambled from his
path. Eyes darted in his direction as warding charms were traced
into the air. But Dayn spared them little notice. Even whispers of
“demon spawn” would give him no pause.
He leapt across the boardwalk and swung
around the nearest corner. He slid to a halt when he realized his
mistake. The alley was a labyrinth of dark corners and teetering
debris. Rats scampered in the shadows, screeching their alarm. Dayn
glanced over his shoulder and gulped down the spit that had lodged
in his throat. He had already met the pack once today and had no
desire to meet it again. As bad as running from his enemies was,
being caught by them was worse.
He worked his way in, stepping through
garbage that shifted beneath his feet. There were maggoty bits of
carcass mixed with roach infested produce, and bloated scraps of
bread floating on green slimy puddles. Strange, he thought, how
food could be discarded so easily, especially when clans such as
his barely scraped a living from the rockier terrains. But there
was no time to dwell on social ills, not when there were ills of
his own to dwell on.
He quickened his pace, realizing he was
losing precious time, but a noise from the rear stopped him in his
tracks. He spun around, expecting to find danger fast approaching.
But he saw no sign of clenched fists or sneering faces, only a
tabby hissing from atop a pile of debris.
Looking back on life
will do you no good, boy
, his father’s voice sounded in his
head.
Best keep your eyes ahead of you.
“Easy for you to
say, Father,” Dayn murmured. “You never had a pack swarming over
you.” But he followed his father’s instruction; he knew better than
to dispute the man. He moved his feet toward the opposite end of
the alley, but it was hard to ignore the scurry of activity that
accompanied his every step.
It seemed an eternity before Dayn reached the
end of the passage, but when he did he felt no relief. The pack was
probably just biding its time, waiting for him on the other side.
He pressed his back against the wall and risked a peek around the
corner. No one of consequence could be seen, just a few
late-afternoon shoppers who had braved the day’s earlier rains.
Dayn drew a steadying breath and eased himself around, then made a
sudden attempt down the boardwalk.
The pounding of his boots shouted his every
step, but Dayn soon leapt off the walk and dodged into the smithy.
He halted just inside the double-doors. His eyes swept over the
room. The usually busy shop seemed strangely deserted. There were
no customers. Even the blacksmith was nowhere in sight. Dayn
glanced at the street behind him, then stepped from the gray light
of the portal. Inside the smithy or not, safety was never
assured.
A jumble of barrels caught Dayn's eye, and he
quickly sidestepped between them. With arms raised high, he
navigated a narrow path to the far side of the room. He shrank into
the darkness of the corner where he watched and waited. But nothing
shadowed the doorway. Dayn closed his eyes and released a sigh. The
pack was gone—for now.
“Sheireadan’s gang after ye again, boy?” the
smith asked from across the room.
The sooty forgeman was now standing before
the furnace, holding a blade grasped in a pair of long tongs. By
his bland expression, it was clear the old man was not surprised by
Dayn’s sudden and dramatic entrance. He had, after all, been hiding
him in times of trouble for the past several years, ever since
Dayn’s differences had made him a target for the local bullies.
The smith raised an eyebrow. “Got ye good
this time, did ‘e?” But he did not wait for a response and instead
turned, tongs in hand, to the anvil at his back.
Dayn lifted a hand to his swelling eye, then
looked at his fingertips and grinned. “Not so bad, Jorge. See . . .
hardly any blood.”
Jorge paused and glared in Dayn’s direction.
“When are ye gonna take a stand against those troublemakers? Yer
fifteen now and certainly bigger’n they are.”
Dayn looked down at his gangly limbs and
frowned. Yes, he was bigger than the other boys, by several inches
or more, but that wasn’t the only difference between them. There
were other things, all of which resulted in his being labeled an
outcast. And being an outcast was miserable indeed.
He flicked a shock of white-blonde hair out
of his face. A pail of water sat atop a nearby bench, and he worked
his way to it. Scowling down at his watery reflection, Dayn winced
and fingered his tender eye. “I told you a hundred times, Jorge, I
do try to fight, but I’m not very good at it. Besides, I’m always
outnumbered.” He dipped his hands into the water and splashed it
onto his face.
Dayn wiped his wet hands down the front of
his wool tunic, one of the few parts of him not splattered with
mud, and limped over to a stool near the warmth of the furnace. He
plopped down, his long legs sprawled on either side of it, and
watched Jorge hammer the blade.