Sun Giver

By Jacob Klop

Born powerless, Arabel is abandoned in twilight by her lumin parents. Raised by greys, she is treated like an outsider for most of her life, yet when her enclave is raided by lumin soldiers, Arabel vows to rescue her people at any cost.

In spire city Coronus, Supreme Solar Roland discovers a dangerous firearm that violates the Great Edict – All machinery and weapons must be powered by lumins. Roland casts a suspicious eye upon the twilight dwelling greys, and ponders the relevance of their existence.

Two nations that once lived in harmony have become divided by prejudice and fear. But conflict will not restore their fractured bonds. Only the return of sun givers can set Tandor's people on a path to reforging their broken ties. Only a sun giver can save them from destroying one another. But a sun giver hasn't been discovered in generations…

…until now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacob Klop
• Release date: Mar 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393880837

Jacob Klop

Jacob Klop was born in Montreal, but now lives just outside Toronto, Canada with his wife, two kids and a fat Maine coon. He tends to think of his best story ideas while abed, but sadly, can't write in his sleep or he would spend his waking hours watching hockey, reading books, and playing video games. When the writing bug bites all the other interests in his life do tend to get neglected. You'll find him typing away in front of the computer on most nights.

Book preview

Prologue

The harsh sun of Tandor beat down on the two travelers. They plodded through the desert sand to the plateau of stone. They were parents. The mother carried a newborn baby in her arms. She cradled it gently as they walked. The unnamed baby was flawed; its skin grey. In all other aspects the child was healthy, but it didn’t matter. All greys were put to the test.

The parents arrived at the base of the plateau and walked up the chiseled, rock steps. The stone was hot. They could feel the warmth through the soles of their cloth sandals as they strode to the center of the plateau. A small stone table had been placed here centuries ago. The mother gazed upon the stone table and a tear rolled down her yellow cheek. It evaporated quickly in the heat of the sun. She laid the baby upon the rock table and the infant began crying. It sensed it was being abandoned, and could feel the cruel heat emanating from the stone.

The parents turned away sadly. The baby had to be left alone. A quarter-cycle was the traditional amount of time. If they were fortunate, when they returned their child would be a healthy shade of yellow or orange. They didn’t want to consider the more likely possibility it would be dead from the heat, or taken by the greys. The parents walked away, trudging their feet in the hot sand.

FROM BEHIND A ROCKY outcropping, the grey man collapsed his spyglass as the parents turned to leave. He didn’t want them noticing a glint of light reflecting from the glass. It was best to avoid confrontations with lumins.

They had brought a grey baby. The man had seen many babies brought here before. Some he took, some he left, some turned yellow or orange, and those he always left, but there was something different about this one. The parents wouldn’t have noticed. It was probably their first time here. This infant didn’t cry as loud as others he’d seen. It didn’t shriek in pain from the hot stone on its back. It seemed to be crying mainly for its parents. He would wait for the customary period of time to pass. If the baby’s skin remained grey, he would take it. Who knows, perhaps the child would be important to his people. The grey man pulled a thin, linen cowl over his head and waited, sweating under the blazing sun.

Chapter 1 - Arabel - The Drawings on the Stone

Arabel crouched low behind a sandstone boulder. She peered at the unaware kaida. A thin tongue snapped from between its crimson lips and curled around a large fly. Slowly, the tongue returned to its mouth. The lizard’s jaw shifted back and forth as it enjoyed the meal. Arabel considered her approach. The kaida was fast, and could burrow deep in the soft sand. If it sensed her, the creature would be gone in a heartbeat. Arabel hefted the thin spear in her hand. She’d only have one chance. Arabel stepped into the open, pulled back her thin, muscled arm and launched the spear in a fluid motion. The kaida paused, seeming to sense something amiss. It was too late. The spear pierced the kaida’s body and drove deep into the hot sand. The impaled lizard twitched once then drew still. Arabel nodded, satisfied. At least she wouldn’t be returning to the enclave empty-handed. She pulled the spear from the kaida and examined the creature. It was smaller than she’d initially thought. This was definitely not going to be the most impressive kill of the cycle. Hopefully, the other hunters were having better luck.

Arabel examined the sky, checking whether there was time to continue hunting. In twilight, the sun hung in a state of permanent dawn, or perhaps it was dusk. Tandor was tidally locked, and time couldn’t be measured by the sun, but Arabel wasn’t looking to the sun for guidance. She looked to the moon. Once the moon reached half way down the horizon to the west, one moon cycle was over. After three hundred moon cycles, one annum was recorded.  Right now, the moon was more than halfway through its cycle. Arabel sighed. Time to return home.

Arabel stuffed the kaida into her hunting bag and slung it over her shoulder. Turning her back to the sun, she began striding toward the enclave. Her shadow stretched across the sand in a thin line. Arabel increased her speed until she was moving at a light jog. The warm sun beat on her back, but not uncomfortably so. Heat didn’t bother her as much as most greys.

As she ran, Arabel scanned the environment, hoping to chance upon more prey. To her left a wide fissure opened into darkness below. It would be cool down there, but unlikely that any animals would be hiding in its depths. Tandor was a planet of extremes, and most wildlife hadn’t adapted to the cold side of the extreme. To her right, pockets of scraggly bushes poked out from the baked landscape. Nothing stirred within. Arabel shook her head, frustrated. If there was any prey in the vicinity, it was hiding out of sight.

She loped on with an easy, smooth stride. Arabel was something of an anomaly within the enclave. She rarely grew tired, and the heat didn’t affect her. Sometimes she wondered if the difference was because of her lumin heritage, but whatever the reason, her unusual endurance was just another trait that set her apart from the rest of the enclave.

Her childhood had been difficult. Other kids had treated Arabel as an outsider, and tormented her mercilessly. At least they did until Arabel fought back. She was quicker than them, and although weaker, she retaliated to their cruel teasing with tooth and nail, leaving many of the bullies with bloody gouges and bite marks. They nicknamed her little jerv. A jerv was a furry mouselike mammal with sharp claws and armored skin. It was known to fiercely defend itself against any animal, no matter the size. ‘Stay away from little jerv,’ they warned one another. And so they did.

Arabel often wondered if it would have been better if she’d let herself become a victim. Perhaps she would have made more friends eventually. She snorted at the ridiculous thought. Arabel could no more have given in to her tormentors than that kaida could have dodged her spear.

She accelerated; her angry thoughts pushing adrenaline through her body. No matter. At a mere sixteen annums, she was already one of the most respected hunters in the enclave. The cycles of worrying about childhood bullies were over.

The red brick buildings of the enclave rose into view. A pleasant odor of roasted vegetables and grilled meat greeted Arabel. Someone was cooking a tasty meal. A muscular teen carrying an enormous basket on his shoulders emerged from a storehouse. He had thick black hair and a bulbous nose. Durand, her only childhood companion. They’d been inseparable for nearly ten annums. He was oblivious to her arrival. Arabel slowed down and stealthily slipped behind him. It was almost too easy. She snapped a finger against his ear.

Ouch, Durand dropped the basket. A bunch of root vegetables spilled out, rolling around his feet. He twisted, black eyes flashing angrily. Arabel leapt away, laughing.

His expression relaxed when he recognized Arabel. Was that really necessary?

She grinned. Not really, but it was entertaining. Arabel was always sneaking up on him. Durand didn’t seem to mind. No matter how irritating Arabel was, he always responded good-naturedly to her teasing. Arabel eyed his rippling muscles. If he ever did lose his cool, she’d be sure to get out of the way fast.

Others in the enclave were often surprised at their connection. Where Arabel was small, Durand was enormous. Arabel had a quick temper, and Durand was gentle and slow to anger. Arabel killed for the enclave, and Durand tended their livestock and crops. And yet, despite their many differences, she felt linked to Durand.

Arabel still remembered the cycle when the bond was formed. They were young children, and she was playing by herself in a narrow canyon, looking for small creatures to hunt. She came upon Durand tending to an injured scortel. In the enclave, if anyone caught a scortel, it was supposed to be contributed as food towards the community, yet here was a boy trying to heal one. Durand had looked at her with dark pleading eyes and asked if she would help. Arabel didn’t recall her response, but she did remember tending to the injured scortel, and a nearly overwhelming feeling of quiet comfort as she and Durand sat together on the rocky ground. They’d been nearly inseparable ever since.

What’s up Arabel? Durand knelt down and began placing the vegetables back into the basket.

Arabel plunked beside him, helping out. Sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d actually drop the vegetables.

He laughed. You know me. I can’t go a cycle without dropping something.

Yeah, I know. I should have realized. Durand was the strongest person in the enclave, but he was also the clumsiest. Arabel had seen him lift huge stones clear off the ground that most would have difficulty even rolling. Sadly, Arabel had also seen Durand drop those very same stones on his own feet. It was a good thing he was a farmer. Durand was far too uncoordinated to be much of a hunter.

Anything interesting going on in the enclave? Arabel scrabbled around, collecting the last of the vegetables.

Not really, just Gabriel on the warpath. He’s been warning everyone to be careful because he spotted some watchers in the sky.

He says that every cycle.

Gabriel was the leader of their enclave, and he was always in a state of constant paranoia. It had been many annums since lumins had raided the enclave for slaves, yet Gabriel still warned his people about lumin drones nearly every cycle. He spent most of his time perched on a nearby hill, spyglass extended, staring grimly in the direction of spire city Coronus.

To Arabel, Gabriel was more than just the leader of their enclave. He was her father, or at least he was the person that played that role ever since he’d brought her home from the stone table. It was difficult for Arabel to think of him as her parent. He didn’t act like other fathers. He never referred to himself as dad. He preferred to be called Gabriel, and he rarely showed any affection toward her. He provided her the necessities of life, but other than that, Gabriel was so occupied with leading the enclave that Arabel often wondered why he’d taken her in at all.

She refocused on Durand’s comment about Gabriel seeing a watcher. It wasn’t a big deal. Arabel had seen them herself on many occasions. Watchers were drones operated by lumins from spire city Coronus. Lumins were always spying on the greys, making sure they weren’t using illegal tech or planning an assault on their precious spire city.

Arabel pursed her lips. She suspected forbidden tech actually had been hidden on the dark side of twilight. She’d overheard Gabriel talking about it, but as for attacking a spire city, the thought was preposterous. The enclaves were nothing but fractured, disorganized communities. Even if they banded together, Arabel doubted they had enough fighters to successfully assault a spire city.

Thanks for the help Arabel, even though it kind of was your fault. Durand rose, towering above her. What’re you doing now?

I have to drop this off with our supplies. Arabel stood and whipped the Kaida from her bag, thrusting it toward him.

Durand grimaced. You don’t have to stick it in my face.

Sorry, that was totally by accident. Arabel grinned. You want to hang out later?

Durand heaved the basket onto his shoulders. Sure. I’ll meet you at the Stone after I’m done.

Okay. Arabel turned away and strode to the supply hut.

The supply hut had been made of red brick, like most buildings in the enclave, but was easily distinguished by its roof of broad sarten leaves that were held together by tough kelpin vines. Provisions master Gerald stood outside, overseeing the food supply deposits for the cycle. Damn it. Gerald was a nasty, cranky old man, and he didn’t like Arabel one bit. The feeling was mutual. She jogged up and acknowledged him with a tight nod.

So, Arabel, what did you manage to find this cycle? His sun creased face wrinkled into a frown. I bet it’s another lizard. There was no humor in his voice. Good-natured ribbing between hunters was common, but there was always a nasty undertone to Gerald’s words when he spoke to Arabel.

Arabel gritted her teeth and produced the kaida, slamming it onto the table in front of Gerald.

Wow. Congratulations! I think you’ve set a record for the most lizards hunted in one annum, and we still have a few cycles to go, so you can keep beating it. Gerald took the kaida and disdainfully tossed it into the food hut.

Good one Gerald, and you continue to break your record for the most stupid jokes in an annum. I guess we’re both great heroes for the enclave. Arabel knew she should ignore Gerald, but he irritated her so much that she couldn’t seem to help herself.

He looked at her furiously for a moment, but then a sly smile crossed his face. I suppose it’s not your fault that you have such an affinity for lizards. I hear the lumins keep them for pets. Who knows what else they do with them? You must get your fondness for lizards from your real parents.

Arabel’s vision clouded and her face flushed. She took a step toward him, fists clenched. Just before striking him she registered his expression. He was waiting for the blow. A smug smile was plastered on his old, wizened face, framed around thin white strands of hair. Gerald was baiting her. The punishment for striking an elder was severe.

Bastard. Arabel unclenched her fists and spun around.

See you tomorrow, Gerald called, cheerfully.

Arabel didn’t respond. She sensed he was smiling at her back. He’d won, and he knew it. Gerald’s comment hurt. It was the kind of thing she’d listened to all her life, and despite Arabel’s tough façade, every barb she’d ever heard stung, and inevitably found a place in her memory. Shoulders slumped, Arabel headed home.

She looked around the enclave as she walked. Their settlement was composed of a collection of sun-baked brick residences scattered about in seeming disarray. The buildings within their enclave were different than the tents of most grey communities. Other enclaves preferred a nomadic lifestyle, believing that constantly being on the move kept them safe from slave raids. Gabriel took an opposing view. He believed that whether they moved or stayed in one place, the watchers would still find them, and so they stayed. Up to this point, their enclave had been spared from any significant raids.

Arabel approached her house. It was an ugly creation, assembled out of a motley assortment of materials scavenged from twilight. There was no consistency or pattern to its construction. One wall was made of wood, but wood was so scarce on Tandor that Gabriel hadn’t been able to finish the job. The other walls were sun-baked bricks. Each of them had been stained a different color, rather than left their natural rust red as was customary. The roof was a garish pink canopy tarp. The home was a reflection of Gabriel’s vanity and his desire to stand out from the rest of the enclave. To Arabel’s eyes, it was a monstrosity.

She pulled aside two leonine skins draped across the front entrance. Gabriel, are you here?

No response. It wasn’t surprising. She hadn’t expected him to be home. Gabriel usually returned later in the cycle.

There were only three rooms in their house; hers, Gabriel’s, and the main living/dining area. Arabel went to her bedroom and pulled a thin cloak off a hook secured into the brick wall. She didn’t wear it very often, but sometimes it was cool in the shade of the Stone. Arabel returned to the dining area and opened a battered pantry door. She grabbed a strip of dried meat and a loaf of crusty bread. She bit into the loaf; stale, but edible.

Arabel left for the Stone, gnawing on the rest of the bread as she strode outside. She’d probably arrive earlier than Durand, but that was good. It would give her a chance to look at the paintings on the Stone. She kept a steady pace as she loped on the rocky ground. Running came naturally to her. Arabel didn’t understand why she’d been born with so much natural athleticism. As far as she knew, lumins traveled everywhere by vehicle. Then again, maybe she was ignorant about lumins, and how they spent their cycles.

The Stone rose into view. It was a thick, granite outcropping that jutted up from the middle of a vast rocky plain. It was easy to see why their ancestors had chosen this place for their artistry. The Stone certainly stood out from the rest of twilight. Arabel scanned the surroundings. As expected, Durand hadn’t arrived yet. She approached the Stone, chewing on a strip of dried meat thoughtfully. Ancient drawings painted onto the granite adorned the surface. The drawings started from the bottom of the rock, rose as high as thirty feet in some sections, and stretched nearly one hundred feet across. Nobody knew why they’d been painted, or their meaning, although most greys believed the drawings held some sort of religious significance to their ancestors. Arabel wasn’t sure. For all the greys knew the giant tableau could merely be an elaborate piece of art.

She touched the rocky surface. Indecipherable words were scrawled under many of the scenes. At the center of the Stone, six grey figures were gathered in a circle holding hands. Light sprayed out from their bodies. Hundreds of yellow people above them appeared to be absorbing the light from the greys. It was generally accepted that the yellow figures were lumins, and the picture represented them stealing life from the greys. Beneath the six greys, a large congregation of grey people bowed down, seemingly worshipping the six figures at the center of the drawing. It was believed that the six were leaders of the greys from generations ago.

Arabel ran her fingers along the cool stone and walked beside it. The story continued, and the six grey figures disappeared over time, until only large groups of yellow and grey figures remained. Eventually, the yellow ones were shown above shining citadels of light, likely their spires, and the greys were depicted hunting and gathering in twilight. To Arabel, it looked as if the lumins had once lived with the greys, until they’d moved on to the spires. If this were true, it had been many generations ago. The spire cities were ancient.

Clumsy footsteps thudded against the ground behind her. She recognized the lumbering gait. Durand was trying to sneak up on her. Arabel smiled. His footsteps were heavy, and oh so awkward. Poor Durand. He wanted desperately to surprise her, and get revenge for the many times she’d flicked his ears. Arabel let him approach, pretending to be absorbed by the drawings. She sensed him raising his hand above her head, about to snap a finger against her ear. She waited until the last possible moment then dodged left. Durand stumbled forward, grunting as his foot hit a jutting rock. Arabel slipped behind him and pushed against his back, completely unbalancing him. Durand tumbled to the ground.

Durand, stick with what you’re good at. She held out a hand to help him up. Carrying heavy stuff.

He took the offered hand and grimaced. One of these cycles, I swear I’ll get you.

Yeah, right. In your dreams. Arabel pulled him to his feet.

Durand turned toward the stone. So, looking at the pictures again?

Yeah, I don’t know why they attract me so much. There’s something about them that seems important. Especially that center one where the lumins look like they’re sucking energy from the six greys.

I don’t know. It seems simple to me. The goddamn lumins are sucking the life out of us. They’re monsters. They’ve probably been enslaving us for thousands of years. Durand’s eyes flashed angrily, then he realized who he was talking to. He flushed. Sorry Arabel. I’m sure they’re not all bad.

Don’t worry about it. Arabel tried to ignore Durand’s outburst. He normally didn’t have a malicious bone in his body, yet here he was getting worked up over an ancient picture, all because of the grey’s fear and hatred of lumins.

Arabel was the opposite. She angered quickly with the greys in the enclave, but when it came to lumins, she’d always been cool headed, probably because of her ancestry. In the painting it looked like the two peoples had once lived together. What if they just needed open dialogue? Perhaps there was common ground that no one was aware of. It seemed foolish, but sometimes Arabel dreamed that the two nations were meant to be one.

Arabel glanced up. A watcher hovered high above. It was a sleek, silver disc of metal, probably no more than a foot wide. A thin antenna, stuck out from the centre, and from the tip of the antenna a red light blinked, as if winking at them.

Do you think that’s the watcher Gabriel was talking about? Arabel pointed.

Durand looked up and glared at the hovering machine. Maybe.

If it came a little closer we could knock it from the sky with rocks.

Come on Arabel. You know better than that. Gabriel’s always saying not to attract the attention of the lumins.

Yeah, yeah. It’s kind of funny. We worry about the lumins so much, but I’ve never even seen one in my life. Do you think they’re much different from us?

Durand gaped at Arabel. Are you serious? We’re nothing like them. Do you think we’d become slavers if we were the ones with the best tech, living in those spire cities?

I don’t know. From what I’ve seen, the strong always take advantage of the weak. Maybe we’d be exactly like them. Arabel’s voice rose angrily.

Durand looked confused about her heated reaction. He was such an enormous presence he’d probably never experienced ridicule or hardship. Durand would never understand what Arabel had fought against for most of her life.

Durand held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. Well, the only difference I’m sure about is that they can absorb the sun, and it makes their skin glow yellow or orange. Always the peacekeeper, Durand moved the conversation to safer ground.

You have to admit that actually sounds pretty cool. Arabel relaxed and grinned.

Durand regarded his grey arm. Yeah, I suppose if you asked whether I wanted my skin to glow, it’d be pretty hard to say no, but that doesn’t mean I’d start acting like a dick.

The watcher suddenly spun in the sky and zipped in the direction of spire Coronus. It was soon out of sight.

Wow, that thing was really moving. Arabel stared toward Coronus.

Durand shrugged. Maybe its operator got bored watching us. After all, we’re not doing anything except staring into the sky.

I don’t know. I’ve never seen one move so fast. I better warn Gabriel. It might be important.

Alright. I’m getting tired and hungry anyways. You know, I once heard that lumins don’t need to sleep or eat. Durand’s expression turned thoughtful. It must be nice not having to sleep, although I do kind of enjoy eating.

Yeah, I can tell. Arabel poked Durand in the belly.

He roared with good humor then charged, trying to snatch her forearm in his beefy hand. Arabel slipped aside and skipped out of reach.

Gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow. She waved and sped away.

Arabel hadn’t been kidding about warning Gabriel. The behavior of that watcher had not been normal.

As soon as she arrived home, she rushed inside and called out for Gabriel.

He emerged from the dining room. His cheeks were lined with wrinkles, and his hair was grey with scattered black threads. Gabriel never told anyone how old he was, but Arabel was pretty sure he was more than fifty-five annums old. Despite his age, Gabriel’s body was strong and well-muscled.

What’s wrong? Gabriel registered her concerned expression.

I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Durand and I were at the Stone and there was a watcher in the sky. It stayed still for a while, but when it left to go back to spire Coronus it took off faster than I’ve ever seen before. Arabel felt foolish voicing her concern. The incident sounded insignificant to her ears, but Gabriel was always warning the enclave that even the smallest occurrences could be critical to their survival.

Gabriel stroked his chin. A worried look crossed his face. I don’t know, it could be trouble, he muttered under his breath.

What do you mean it could be trouble?

Well, you understand that lumins have varying degrees of power depending on their body’s ability to absorb the sun.

Arabel nodded, although this was the extent of her knowledge.

"If a watcher was moving