The Sun Dwellers

Bonk! Something whacks the soldier in the helmet, knocking him off his feet. Roc didn’t move, so it must’ve been—

“Tawni!” Adele yells, spotting her behind a pillar. “Run! Get out of here!”

There’s a look in Tawni’s eyes that tells me she’s not going anywhere. As if to prove it, she hefts something over her shoulder and chucks it with two hands, narrowly missing another guard.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

The guard that was nearly hit by what turns out to be an apple-sized metal ball—who knows where Tawni got it—charges toward her. Roc, who seems to be filled with more courage than all of us combined, steps in front of the guard, who’s nearly twice his size, and swipes at him with his sword. The guy dodges the blow casually, professionally, and then slashes at Roc’s head. He barely ducks under it, his eyes big and wide and scared. He’s just realized he’s way out of his depth. Tawni continues launching metal balls at anyone wearing red, hitting a few, but mostly missing.

I sprint toward where Roc is now blocking heavy killing blows, trying to use his quickness to keep his opponent on the move. Although Tawni and Roc have eliminated a few of the guards, there are still at least twelve upright and fighting—three of which bar the path to my friend. The clang of metal on metal rings out behind me—Adele’s got a fight of her own.

How has everything gotten so out of control? I wonder. The world is falling apart at the seams, and we—a few teenagers—are supposed to stop it? How we ever thought we could succeed, I do not know. But now all that exists is fighting and death and using my last breaths to reduce the size of my father’s guard force.

Holding my sword with my left hand, I extract a throwing knife from my belt and snap it at the centermost guard, hitting him in the throat. He falls backward, breathing more blood than air until he dies. I still want to get to my gun, but, strapped to my ankle, it’s too far away. Why didn’t I holster it higher up? So stupid.

The other two men close from each side, spi

Feeling a presence behind me, I risk a glance back to see Adele cut down one of the four men she’s fighting. Considering our disadvantage in numbers, we’re doing pretty well. A sliver of hope rises in me, just large enough to delude myself into a vision of victory where dozens of dead guardsmen lie in red piles on the floor; my father shrinks back, cowering in his throne like the coward that he is; me, stabbing him through the chest, my mother’s name on my lips—Jocelyn Nailin—as I kill my last remaining parent.

When hope rises, that’s when things tend to fall apart. A hard lesson.

One of my foes gets inside my sword range, slices my arm, which sends icy, searing, real pain through my nerves and nearly makes me drop my sword. I manage to switch my grip to my other hand, however, warding off his next stroke. But then I trip on something—no, no, not something; Trevor’s dead body—and stumble backward. The guards are on me faster than a starving man on a stale loaf of bread, their sword points under my chin.

Before I die, I have to see her once more. I turn my head and her sword is knocked from her hand, as five—or is it six?—guards surround her. I can’t watch this, can’t watch her die—kill me first, for God’s sake, do it! DO IT! The scream is in my head, but I hear it echo throughout the room as if I really did yell.

Then I realize it’s not an echo; it’s Roc, yelling “Do it!” and “Kill me!” repeatedly. I follow the sound between the legs of the guards who have me at their mercy. Past them, Roc lies in a similar position to me—on his back, weaponless, blades at his throat—and is screaming his head off, his gaze to the side. I trace the line of his gaze to where Tawni is backed up against a pillar, on the verge of death, just like the rest of us. Roc doesn’t want to see her die any more than I do Adele.

I close my eyes, try to picture the good memories of my life: my mother, singing my brother and me a gentle and soothing lullaby before bed; playing tag and hide-and-seek with Roc in the palace gardens, finding him tucked away in the dead center of a thorny rosebush, no clue as to how he got in there; Adele’s face, the first time I saw her, the first time I kissed her.

“Enough!” my father screams from only ten feet away. My eyes flash open. “Enough,” he repeats. “While admirable, your heroics are fruitless. You’re beaten. Accept it. You’ve had your fun and now it’s my turn. Guards! Bind them!”

What? He’s not going to kill us, just tie us up? At first the airy bubble of elation swells up in my stomach—my friends not dead; Adele not dead—but then I realize: he wants to destroy our minds before destroying our bodies. Psychological warfare: my father’s favorite. The bubble pops and I’m left feeling sick.

Strong arms lift me, roughly twist my arms behind me, shackle my hands together. Around me, my friends are getting similar treatment.

“Relieve them of their weapons,” my father orders. A guard on each leg, they start low, removing the knife lashed to my calf, the handgun from my ankle holster, the series of various-sized knives from my belt, the bow and arrows from my back. They already have my sword. I glance over at Adele, who’s not making it easy on her guards, squirming and insulting them as they carefully search her. Gri

“Leave her alone!” I shout, which is u

“My nose!” he screams, blood gushing between his fingers. “She broke my freakin’ nose!”

A rush of pride courses through me. That’s my girlfriend.

Adele

“Bravo,” President Nailin says, clapping slowly. “Son, you’ve picked a real firecracker. Too bad she’s a filthy moon dweller.”

Tristan turns away from me to face his father, says, “You wouldn’t know filth if your face was covered in mud.”

“What did I say about your temper?” the President says.

The guards work on tying my feet together, determined not to let me break anymore noses. Next time I’ll use my head, I think. When I glance over at Roc and Tawni, Roc’s already bound and weaponless, feet and hands clapped together with thick rope. The guard who’s searching Tawni is as big a pervert as the one I had, his hands still lingering mid-thigh, caressing behind her legs and moving up…

“Knock it off, horn dog,” one of the other guards hisses. “She was throwing those ca

The perv guard stands up, smirking, and gives Tawni a quick final pat down, being sure to hit only her curves. I want nothing more than to run to her, kick the sick smile off his face, but my feet are tied now, and I’d only serve to fall on my own face if I tried. Tawni just takes it, her eyes closed, her face expressionless. I hope she’s found a happy place to go, somewhere far, far away from here.

Tristan’s still trading terse remarks with his father. “You’re killing i

“I had no choice. They were going to rebel. You know as well as I do that the New City depends on the natural resources the Lesser Realms provide.”

“The Lower Realms, Father. Not lesser.”

“You’re a fool, Tristan. You’ve given up everything for a girl, and a moon dweller, no less. You could have ruled the world!”