Across the Sun

By Jason Pagano and Bill Robinson

Across the Sun invokes a metaphysical journey. Four adopted young adults flee an invasion and are magically displaced into a parallel world where they unknowingly disrupt a violent slave trade.

Aeden, the eldest, is haunted by a strange dream. He is determined to protect his siblings and new comrades, and learns most of the world considers his divine magic to be evil. He rescues an enslaved woman, putting himself and his siblings in danger.

Ruccharieu "Rook" is obsessed with water and hydraulic pressure. He is gifted at using arcane magic and craves knowledge. During a dangerous encounter, he learns someone has been occupying his body like a symbiote all along.

Niwa loves to share stories with the summoned spirits of her deceased ancestors. As her abilities improve, she gains self-confidence, and later summons someone who knows the truth about what happened back home.

Kliyd, the youngest, is a tikus (a humanoid rat person) who often has premonitions. After fleeing their home, she learns the tikus are the enslaved race of this parallel world. Stealthy and athletic, Kliyd hides her emotions, but is fiercely loyal to her family.

The siblings are determined to stick together as they search for their missing parents, Gorram and Saba, hoping to be reunited soon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737044611

Book preview

Prologue

He woke wearily, brushing the hair from his eyes. The campfire was out, but the coals were still hot. He threw a log on the coals and watched as the fire returned to life. Then he pulled his blade from its scabbard and admired how its intricate gold inlay complimented the crimson gems set into the pommel. He also grabbed his shield, the design of which mirrored his weapon.

Realizing everyone in the camp was still asleep, a feeling of duty overtook him. His friends, his family: they needed his protection. He went to sit on a nearby rock, which gave him a clear view of his sleeping companions. In the distance, an orange light streaked across the morning sky. Its tail glittered yellow and red, like sparks falling away from a blacksmith’s grinding stone.

At the edge of camp stood a woman, whose scarlet silk robe fell gracefully over her feminine figure. Her crimson hair shone as the sun rose over the horizon. She appeared ageless, even timeless. Her beauty was divine.

She was somehow familiar to him. She was watching him, but he couldn’t comprehend the meaning in her gaze. He wanted to know more about her.

From the forest behind her, a cloud of black swirled up. Her eyes locked with his as the cloud billowed around her. But she didn’t move; she didn’t run.

Panic welled up in his chest. His throat tightened as he tried to get to his feet. He wanted to run to her, to save her, but couldn’t move. There was something holding him back. Just as the cloud overtook her, she spoke a name: Kavalan.

The cloud dissipated. He looked back to his companions lying just as they had before. Except now their lifeless bodies were covered in blood.

PART 1

1. Baking Bread

Saba awoke and sat upright so calmly, as though she lay down and closed her eyes but in reverse. She’d fallen asleep again on the couch beneath a window overlooking the backyard. Off in the distance, a few bats were canvassing in one final lap before the sunlight sent them to rest.

Her dwarven knees ached as she stood to investigate the faint sound of footsteps. That boy. She sighed as she reached for her robe.

Approaching from the garden, Aeden quietly entered the kitchen through the back door and dropped on the ground a bag from which flour billowed into the air, covering his blond, unkempt hair and his skin, deeply tanned from a season of working outdoors.  He let out a large yawn as he went to the sink and began cleaning last night’s dishes.

The nightmare again? Saba asked as she approached him. She noticed the half dozen fresh loaves of bread and the last of the flour in the corner. Go lie down, she commanded gently.

But what about Professor Gorram? Aeden was the only one of their children insistent on using honorifics for his parents.

Never you mind about him. I’ll take care of those dishes for you. You just get your rest. You have a long day ahead of you. She collected the drying rag from his large hands.

Aeden shuffled out of the kitchen and went upstairs. Saba wondered when in the middle of the night he’d snuck outside.

Just past the kitchen’s screen door were the stairs to the dormitory. Fatigued, Aeden considered how climbing these creaky stairs might wake his siblings. Closing the door inside the loft, he thought to remove his boots only after collapsing into bed. Reaching for his laces, he realized he made dozens of loaves of bread in the middle of the night while barefoot.

Hi Rook, Aeden mumbled after closing his eyes.

It surprised Ruccharieu his clearly exhausted human brother thought to greet him. As an elf, he was the only one upstairs who’d likely be aware of Aeden’s return. Elves had no physiological need to sleep but would meditate for long stretches of time. He had mentioned once that others would be unnerved should they wake in the middle of the night and see him staring vacantly ahead, so he’d committed to closing his eyes in a semblance of solidarity.

Ruccharieu grinned as he considered responding but noticed Aeden had already fallen asleep.

2. Water and Fire

Gathering for breakfast was unremarkable, save for Aeden’s absence. The siblings had seen him sprawled on his bed as they’d descended the sliding pole, so they knew he had a troublesome night. Each also assumed their mother already knew this and had probably spoken a word with their father about it before they’d convened around the table.

Saba said, Your brother had a rough night again. He’ll be down later. Save him a few bites, would you?

Yesterday afternoon, Gorram had demonstrated create flame, a simple arcane incantation during class in the backyard. In his palm he’d created a pocket of intense heat that could even ignite a small flame within itself, if one desired.

Niwa, with her gnomish curiosity and feistiness, had found this spell particularly interesting. The quick flash of fire that had sprung from her father’s dwarven palm twinkled in her bright eyes. She wasn’t always the most attentive student, but when the magic suited her personality, she’d fixate on a spell until it was second nature.

After practicing into the evening, Niwa had delighted in showcasing her new skill by cooking popping corn from her hand. She’d scurried all about the house, seeking out her siblings to show them her new trick. She was again popping kernels at the table during breakfast as Gorram lectured them about a discipline he called forbearance. One of his favorite themes was teaching his children about appropriate and inappropriate situations regarding the use of magic.

Arcana is appropriate as self-defense, their father said, but should always be used sparingly where it is not embraced by the community. It should go without saying that arcana is the only type of magic to be practiced at all. Gorram glanced to Aeden’s empty chair. It had been months since he’d caught his human son practicing his strange magical ability.

The siblings avoided making eye contact with Gorram as he lectured. At home, he often used magic and arcana interchangeably. But he dodged any discussion of other types of magic, so they remained just figments of their thriving imaginations.

The only community the siblings knew was the nearby village of Raven’s Cross. Everywhere else beyond their ancient homestead seemed to be woods or valley. Essentially, their father was reminding them never to use magic during their weekly errands in town.

The people of Raven’s Cross regarded Gorram as an eccentric farmer who took in strays and lived in some sort of hermitage with strange children. Rumors had been circulating for years that Gorram and his brood of teenagers used magic.

Forbearance, the dwarf continued, is about finding diversions in everyday activities that centers us when we’re provoked and empowers us with self-control.

Everyone was half-listening and half-focused on eating. Gorram looked to Kliyd. He was pleased she, the youngest of his children, seemed most attentive to his lecture. In actuality, the child was staring at a chunk of food that rolled out of his mouth as he talked, only to lodge in his dense goatee. Would it simply fall out on its own, or would someone comment on it? That someone certainly wouldn’t be her, she decided.

Ruccharieu had stood to give himself better leverage as he sliced another loaf of Aeden’s bread. As he considered himself an obedient student, he’d convinced himself this lecture was probably meant for his sisters. After all, he agreed with most of Gorram’s treatises on arcane etiquette, and he already felt educated in this curriculum. Slicing bread was just something to do.

He heard Saba mutter to herself, I think he left the door open last night. Something is off.

Gorram leaned forward to serve himself another slice of buttered bread as a lone kernel sailed from Niwa’s petite hand right in to Gorram’s open mouth. He jerked up and out of his seat and began coughing.

His father’s sudden movements surprised Ruccharieu, who stepped back, crashing back into his chair. As he and the chair slid backwards, everyone heard a tiny but blood-curdling screech from beneath the table.

Kliyd’s eyes widened in horror. The young tikus girl hopped off her seat and ran to the other side of the table. Ruccharieu sat motionless, only vaguely understanding the noise had come from somewhere close to him.

Kliyd dove beneath her brother’s chair, her prehensile tail tucked between her legs in distress, then resurfaced holding an injured animal to her chest.

Is that a raccoon? Ruccharieu asked in a low voice.

No, Kliyd answered. It’s a cacomistle.

Niwa thought she’d misheard. A what? Though she’d never admit it, she did briefly think her sister might share some distant ancestry with that creature. The tikus race appeared a mix of small humans and rats, so the idea wasn’t farfetched.

Usually Gorram had ample patience for raising his brood of teenagers. This morning, however, was testing his patience. Furthermore, he was vexed by Aeden, who had been up most of the night again because of some recurring nightmare and was now sleeping through family time.

This could be our last breakfast together on this world, and still it’s fraught with chaos, Gorram lamented, his eyes clenched shut in frustration. Take that thing outside, Kliyd. He sat in silence so his ominous words would linger in the air, despite an unintentional rhyme undermining his tone.

Everyone observed him in silence and surprise since they knew he didn’t enjoy administering discipline by yelling. The irony of his frustration directly after his speech about forbearance, however, seemed lost on him.

Kliyd scampered out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and out the back door, still holding the injured creature close to her body.

Saba was not one to indulge in drama. She smiled casually. Well, I’m glad to see my children are making new friends. She glanced at the screen door. It was once again slightly ajar.

With a few strained chuckles, they resumed eating breakfast. Gorram leaned back, appearing less tense. He hoped that had been the last of the antics.

From where he sat, Ruccharieu could see out the kitchen window. He hoped to spy Kliyd veering off towards the pond. He assumed correctly, and saw the tikus dart into the woods.

Politely excusing himself, Ruccharieu collected his plate along with several others, and brought them to the kitchen sink. He felt a little guilty leaving Niwa alone with Gorram and Saba, especially considering her role in the brief bedlam, as he quietly exited the back door.

The night before, he too had practiced the spell Gorram had taught them. The young mage had spent hours working to reverse engineer the base arcana of the spell: instead of creating a pocket of intense heat, he’d manifested a pocket of intense, cold moisture.

The elf picked up a pebble, gripping it in his palm. Concentrating, he manipulated create flame to chill the very air itself, and soon a walnut-sized ball of ice encapsulated the pebble. The young mage threw the ice ball, successfully hitting the dormitory door with a faint thump. Satisfied, he turned to go rendezvous with his sister.

Past the footpath to a river bend, Kliyd cradled the animal as she climbed a cedar tree. A halfling bounded toward her, moving along tree boughs until he was squatting by her feet. The tikus stared at his sage-colored dungaree vest and his hairy bare feet as he smiled reassuringly at her and the animal.

I know it be an accident, but the impact done a real number on her rear leg, said the halfling, who resembled an adult human at half the size. His voice was pleasant and mellow. That’s dislocated. Ya need to set it back in place, understand? It’s gonna hurt bad ’fore it helps her. Glad to see ya done stop the bleeding. The halfling gritted his teeth and, gesturing, supervised Kliyd as she reset the bone.

She cringed in sympathy, briefly, looking away and closing her eyes. When she reopened them, she was alone once again with the rescued animal. Kliyd never wondered why the friendliest strangers appeared out of nowhere to speak with her, but this only happened when she was alone, so she never told another soul about them, lest they disbelieve her or think her bizarre.

A heartbeat later, Kliyd whistled below to Ruccharieu, who appeared to be looking for her. The elf grinned and looked up, locating his sister almost at once. How’s the patient?

She nodded to suggest a good prognosis and began to climb down the cedar tree.

Ruccharieu nodded back, impressed with his sister. He hadn’t been sure what treatment the injured animal had needed, so the mage had secretly called for an animal rescue of his own. He thought to bide some time until that aid arrived. Think I can beat my personal best?

Kliyd stopped a few boughs down from her previous perch, feeling in slightly better spirits. From ten. Get ready.

As his sister counted down, Ruccharieu hurriedly removed his vest, pants, and shoes. For a teenager who kept his nose in books, his physique was remarkable. Like all elves, he had dark amber skin and a willowy frame, but his labor-intensive chores and his dedication to swimming and diving accounted for his toned body.

At the count of two, Ruccharieu was standing in the river, which rose to his chest. At one, he inhaled deeply and squatted down so his eyes and ears were just above the water margin.

Go.

Ruccharieu folded his legs into the lotus position and sat submerged in the river. He loved the silence. He loved the pressure of the water against his body, to feel enveloped in its embrace. It felt like learning he could find magnetic north instinctively.

Kliyd began to worry after she’d mentally counted to two hundred. Her brother had been underwater for over three minutes. She considered if her brother had fallen unconscious, he’d be carried out with the river’s moderate current. He remained poised in his spot.

The tikus continued her count as the cacomistle nestled in her lap and closed her eyes.

Ruccharieu resurfaced almost casually as Kliyd announced, Three-hundred forty-six. He grinned, knowing full well this wasn’t his personal best. It had been, however, enough time for his animal rescuer to arrive.

Aeden was walking toward them. He raised a hand in greeting. I got your hail. Was it supposed to be a play on words? Pretty clever, Rook.

Actually, that was just a happy accident, the elf replied, smiling.

Kliyd descended the tree with the small patient, so Aeden could see the animal’s injury. His brother, somehow already dry, was getting dressed, and he nodded in silent agreement to Aeden.

This animal is called a cacomistle. Is that right? Ruccharieu was standing at the river and letting the cool water roll over his feet.

Aeden held the injured animal. A small flame appeared to be escaping from his hands, but it emanated no crackling nor produced any ash. The animal remained submissive and still. Within seconds, the greyish-white flames went up her maimed leg without burning her. The gash on her foot was gone. He set the animal down and she scrambled back up the tree. No trace of injury remained.

Someday I hope to better understand how your magic is different. Sure, it isn’t arcana, but Gorram has never been straightforward about why he seems to abhor it so much, Ruccharieu said.

It just means I teach myself and never tell him about it. Aeden said forlornly, extending an arm to hug his sister. I’m almost positive Miss Saba knows I still practice.

Kliyd was uncomfortable with anyone touching her but understood familial touch was a sort of healing for her brother, who nursed feelings of rejection, so she leaned into the hug. She also nodded at his suspicion that Saba knew more than she mentioned.

Aeden had always been drawn to the flame - its warmth, its light. Often, he’d find himself staring into the chiminea as his bread was baking, the fire’s heat making his creations rise.

Let’s get back, suggested Ruccharieu. No one wants to get in trouble on his last day in the world. He was lightly mocking Gorram’s turn of phrase.

Aeden raised his eyebrows, not understanding Ruccharieu’s word choice. Kliyd scurried forward and led them all back to the house.

3. Silence

To study one’s reflection is to look backwards in the present. Niwa had recalled this traditional gnome proverb for as long as she could remember but never knew when she’d first heard it.

That morning, Gorram was teaching his children about stillness and meditation. Niwa was restless throughout the session but had resolved never to let a fiasco like yesterday’s breakfast repeat itself. Was her restlessness due to having to focus on stillness? Or was Gorram teaching her about stillness because she was so rambunctious?

Their father was also encouraging them to practice the arcane art of silence. When cast properly, the magic user commanded a sphere around herself through which no sound waves could penetrate. The caster, of course, would also be silent within the spell.

After Gorram’s lesson, Niwa went into the dining room, an eternal hub of commotion, and sat at the table. Closing her eyes, she ceased fidgeting, and then imagined time stopping. She imagined everyone halting and seeing her meditating. They’d be slack jawed, immobilized by her talent and discipline. The image of her marveling family served as the focus for her new spell.

Niwa practiced silence all afternoon. She practiced by the stream, denying even the gentle sound of the flowing water and the bugs darting around her. Birds were unaffected by her sphere of quietude, but their song couldn’t reach within it. She practiced near Aeden, who was cutting wheat with a scythe and making labored grunting sounds. At first, the hush intrigued him. But soon he became irritated by it, and he shooed his sister away.

A few hours passed before she opened her eyes to discover it was dark outside. Images of gnomes appeared as she’d meditated. Some of them had seemed to speak to her, though none used any words.

She wished she could’ve heard what these fascinating strangers were trying to say to her. She also would’ve liked to hear anyone calling out time for dinner. But these things couldn’t happen within the arcane silence.

Dreamily, she wandered back home, passing by the pond. She was thinking about the gnomes she’d seen during meditation, wondering how she could visualize her kind so clearly. She’d never seen another gnome in the flesh before.

Under the light of a waxing moon, she paused and saw her reflection in the still water. Over her left shoulder was the moon’s reflection. Over her right was a ghostly gnome with hair even wilder than her own.

Your ancestor, Liu Jaori, couldn’t sit still in class either. He still became a skilled summoner, the man said. He continued discussing gnomes of a bygone era.

Niwa was fascinated. Somehow, she understood his usage of a clan surname before her ancestor’s name. The gnomish history sheltered her in a way that was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Each story was brief; each was a thread woven into a tapestry. She felt a strong affinity with the Liu clan.

Then she heard a familiar voice. Niwa, I managed to save your dinner before Rook or Aeden could get their mitts on it. Saba, approaching her daughter, wondered why Niwa was staring at the water. I might not be able to rescue it a second time, so let’s head back now, all right?

The girl sprang to her feet, turning to face her mother. She decided to keep communing with ancestors to herself for now, at least.

I think magic can work sometimes without practiced casting, Niwa said as they walked home. For the first time that night, she noticed the ambient sounds of crickets all around them.

What makes you say that? asked Saba. She was pleased her child was making this connection.

I think… Her daughter hesitated. I think once you awaken to the idea of arcana happening around you… sometimes you can just see and hear it if you know how to look and listen.

Has anyone ever told you that gnomes are descended from the fey? Saba looked up at the moon as they walked.

Rook told me that once, from a book he was reading, she bluffed. Their home was so far removed from most people: Niwa wondered why her mother thought someone might have told her something like that. And yet she still wanted her mother to see her as knowledgeable.

Some disagree with me, but I think magic comes from other worlds, Saba said. What is natural in one world is magic in another. You start to see things differently once you travel a bit.

Can you tell me more about the fey? The term sounded familiar to her, like another proverb she couldn’t place.

The fey travel all the time. All of them — fairies, pixies, yakshas, leprechauns — learned their talents along the way. Some have remained in this world over countless lifetimes. Gnomes are descended from them: gnomes are handy with magic, yet native to this world. Saba removed a leaf that had gotten stuck in her daughter’s wild hair.

Have you met any of these creatures? She wondered if she might be able to see them beside her reflection, and tried to imagine what they looked like.

Saba closed her eyes and slowly moved her head as though trying to pinpoint a far-off sound or smell. "Some of them live among nature. I don’t know any, but I believe what you said about arcana. The gnomes were once fey, but not all fey are gnomes. Both exist and can live in the same world. So why should all magic work the same way? Some