Page 3 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)

Stolen Sorrow

M arrow is dead.

A dozen hulking figures burst through the doors, weapons drawn. Their bodies are draped with axes of all sizes—clipped to their belts, strapped to their backs, or tucked in their boots. Some are so massive, they peek from behind their bulky fur-laden shoulders.

Marrow is dead.

The human-like creatures are tall and filthy, dirt smeared across their faces as if they dug straight from the Underworld.

A gnarled male leads them, his black hair wild, bow still trained on the stage.

His face is a grotesque map of scars, stretching from temple to jaw and eyes that burn with raw, unfiltered rage.

“ATTACK!” he bellows, snatching another red-tipped arrow from his quiver.

“UNDERLINGS!”

“Grab your weapons!”

“For Goldenpine!”

The villagers scream, scrambling for weapons—plates, silverware—anything they can use to defend themselves. A deafening crack of thunder shakes the room.

It is utter chaos.

Yet my mind is numb, frozen in fear as I take in the unfolding scene around me.

“Take your siblings and run! Go west, as far as you can run, my loves! Go !” a mother screams for her eldest son to take the younger children gathered around her arms. She turns toward the onslaught and grabs knives off the table, readying herself to fight.

“Sun Goddess please watch over us, guide us to your light in our final hour of darkness…” a man prays as he soils himself.

Children duck under the tables, confused, quivering with fear.

A group of farmers push their way to the edge of the room, donning their sickles and shovels from the wall.

Nic! He was by the doors!

My pulse thumps wildly in my skull, and my vision blurs.

The only thing grounding me to this consciousness is turning cold beneath my touch.

I fold myself over Marrow, shielding him with my body, though I know it doesn’t matter. Won’t bring him back to me. I want to carve the memories of him so sharply into my mind that they will never fade.

Will I remember the way his eyes shimmered with joy as he played?

The sweet scent of the lemon tea he brewed before our lessons?

The way this voice filled my soul one moment, only to crack me down the middle the next?

“I AM A SUN WATCHER. BEHIND ME!” a man roars. Two large men stride in the side door of the tavern, blue cloaks clasped at their neck.

Watchers!

The taller of the two stands over six feet. He has dark skin and long braided hair, shaved short above his ears. His comrade is slightly shorter with sun-kissed skin and piercing blue eyes, partially concealed by a swirl of black hair. His broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist.

A blinding flash of light erupts from the taller, dark-skinned Watcher, making my eyes sting.

Screams follow another pulse of light. Magic!

Underlings cower forward in panic, tearing at their eyes from the blinding flash. A group of nearby civilians stab them relentlessly with forks, knives, and whatever other objects they managed to conjure into weapons.

The Underlings laugh hysterically, invigorated by the chaos. Black blood drips from their wounds onto the floor.

The light-wielding Watcher handles a long sword with lethal precision, stabbing an Underling in the neck while helping a woman up off the floor with his free hand.

Sheets of icy fog and mist creep through the room, thickest where the Underlings are clustered. The other Watcher— the one with the crystal blue eyes and midnight hair—is standing on a table welding some sort of fog-like magic that manages to freeze a few Underlings to the ground.

More patrons join the assault, smashing plates and stabbing wherever possible.

A few Underlings fall. But the raven-haired leader slashes his way through the hall, cutting down anyone unfortunate enough to get within reach of his axe.

The fog-wielding Watcher standing atop the table snatches an arrow out of the air only inches from piercing his stomach.

He steps and launches the arrow so hard into the chest of an Underling, it is pinned to the wall.

The Underling’s head bobs forward, long, tangled orange hair falling across its face.

Blood as black as the night sky seeps from its shoulder.

I’m still clutching onto Marrow. Unable to move. Observing everything and nothing at the same time.

“Akemi!” Rosie shakes me. “You need to get out of here. Now!”

Her words sound muffled, distant. I shake my head. I want to stay. I want to hold onto Marrow, the only person who ever cared for me like a father.

Row and Bane rush through the side door, daggers raised, scanning the room. Row nods toward me, his mouth forming the words “over there” to Bane.

Rosie steps in front of me, cast iron pan raised defensively, blocking the mayhem with a fierce determination.

Another flash of light blasts throughout the room from the tall Watcher with dark brown skin. Screams of pain follow.

Two large Underlings charge at Row, snapping me back into my senses.

No!

“ROW!” I sob, my throat raw from screaming—I realize with a start—that I must have been doing this whole time.

Both Row and Bane turn, ready for an attack. Rosie joins them, pan held high above her head.

Fog, wind, heat, and light burst throughout the tavern.

Bane manages to disarm one Underling. Row fights another, pinning its body to the table, while Rosie swings her pan down on its head.

So fixated on watching Rosie, Bane, and Row, I didn’t notice the three Underlings crawling toward me.

I grind my teeth and wrench myself away from Marrow’s body.

I will not let them desecrate him.

Drawing them away, I run toward the kitchen door as fast as I can.

But they are faster.

One crashes into me, pulling me down.

I yelp as my head and shoulder smash into the floor.

My vision blurs as blood-slick hands twist my arms behind my back.

I struggle, but it’s useless. The Underling is impossibly strong. My screams echo, forgotten in the chaos.

“We’ve got a fighter,” one grunts with amusement.

The Underling presses his knee into my back, forcing the air from my lungs.

I gasp, scraping my face against the cold wood. “Get off me!”

I kick my legs free and slam my boot into its thigh. The effort strains my muscles, but the creature just laughs, undeterred.

Another pair of hands grabs my ankles, pinning them in place.

I’ve never much prayed to the Sun Goddess or Moon God before, yet I find myself thinking of them, the afterlife, and what will happen next to my soul. Will I ascend into the great celestial heavens or sink below the Underworld into the fiery depths of Hels?

The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as I pray to the Gods that never heard me before.

In my head, I hear Marrow’s voice, fading, urging me to live, to fight.

For him, I will.

A tendril of ice-white fog encircles me, weaving itself between me and my captors.

I gasp as the pressure on my ribs disappears. The freezing mist smells like crisp winter morning and frozen pine needles. The fog shatters with a sharp crack, and fragments of Underlings fall in bloody shards of ice. I gag down bile.

“Watchers, please! Take her! Save her!” Rosie’s voice cuts through the chaos.

“We can take them. Go!” Bane shouts.

There are only a few Underlings left, still cutting people like trees.

“AKEMI, GET OUT OF HERE! GO!” Row booms.

Why, I wonder distantly. Why am I so special to be saved?

The fog-wielding Watcher picks me off the floor, tucking me in his arms as if I weigh nothing.

His bright blue eyes look down at me as white tendrils of smoke wrap protectively around us, blocking out the rest of the room from view.

There is something sharp in his panicked stare, like he recognizes something in me.

My eyes feel so heavy as they roll back behind my fluttering eyelids. My head lolls into the crook of the Watcher’s massive shoulder. Did I lose blood? Perhaps if I just rested a bit…

“We’ll get you out of here. Stay with me. Stay with me,” the Watcher promises as he leans over me, eyebrows furrowed.

Another war horn rings in the distance before my vision fades to nothingness.

I wake from the jostling of movement of a large black mare galloping beneath me. Rain pelts from above, stinging like needles with each drop. I’m cradled tightly to a broad, warm chest. My feet dangle off the side of the saddle.

I look up to find the same Watcher who carried me in the tavern. Above him, the dark sky is full of rolling thunderclouds, no stars or moon in sight. He is looking intensely ahead, hood drawn over his brow.

I wiggle my fingers and toes, checking to see if they can still function properly. I let out a breath of relief only to be greeted with a stabbing pain in my ribs.

Ouch .

My shoulder feels like it’s stretched over the wrong bone.

Then it all comes back to me. The Tavern, the hecklers interrupting my Telling, Marrow taking over for me, standing in my spot one moment, crashing to the floor the next.

The spot where I was just standing only moments prior.

Marrow!

Just as my tears fall, the rain wipes them away. As if losing Marrow and my home wasn’t enough, even my sorrow is stolen by this night.

“Go, Lux, go!” The Watcher yells and shifts us forward. The black stallion responds, galloping faster at the command.

A small part of me wishes he would just let me go. Let me fall from this horse to the muddy forest floor.

Instead, his grip tightens.

Behind us, the other long-haired Watcher is astride a gorgeous white mare. Two Underlings run alongside him. One grabs his leg.

“Oh no you don’t!” The Watcher, who seems to command the sun itself, shakes his leg, causing the massive Underling to fall from the horse. “Motherfucker took my boot.” He sheaths his sword and grins maniacally, clapping his hands high above his head.

The ground vibrates with the force of his magic. A blur of light illuminates the night as the final Underling thrashes to the ground, scratching the gaping holes where his eyes once were.