For Whom the Sun Sings by W. A. Fulkerson

Author:W. A. Fulkerson [Fulkerson, W. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Christian, Fantasy, Young Adult
ISBN: 9781621841180
Publisher: Enclave Escape
Published: 2020-03-17T05:00:00+00:00

Approaching the familiar house at twenty-five stone was a confusing experience. Part of Andrius was elated, but the smallest seed of guilt had now sprouted and grown to such a size as to demand attention. He would not miss Daiva, but he was abandoning his father.

“Get your things,” the Regent of Stone said softly. His cane had just clacked against the roadstone and they made their way toward the only home Andrius had ever known. The night was suddenly colder.

“Can I say goodbye first?”

Petras acquired a hard look, as if the heat of anger suddenly steamed off of him, but then he softened and seemed sad.

“You’ll miss Aleksandras.”

Andrius nodded, wiping his hand across his face.

“Very well,” the Regent relented.

The door creaked open and Andrius could not hear with his eyes, though his ears told him that the room was occupied. Aleksandras was sitting in a chair facing the wall.

“Andrius?”

“It’s me, Papa.”

“And I am here as well,” Petras added. Andrius’s eyes began adjusting to the room, and he could now faintly hear with them. His father had grown animated at first, then forlorn, hearing the Regent’s voice.

“They’ve decided to take you away from me, haven’t they?”

Andrius’s stomach tied in the worst of knots. He took a lunging step forward.

“No, Papa! It’s—”

“Yes.”

Andrius stopped dead in his tracks. The Regent of Stone shifted his weight, then broke the silence again. “Yes, Aleksandras. We are taking him away from you.”

Andrius frowned at the Regent, and then he remembered bitterly that the man did not perceive his look. Andrius took his father by the hand, who shook his head as he spoke.

“I can’t say I’m surprised—or that I blame you.” He chuckled bittersweetly and ran his hand over Andrius’s hair. “You always were a special boy. Destined for great things.”

“Papa . . .”

“You belong to the village, Andrius, though I liked to think you belonged to me. We have to obey the Prophet and his Regents, don’t we?”

Andrius sank to his knees, still clutching his father’s hand. The night-sun’s song had followed them in, and Andrius noticed how large and swollen Aleksandras’s face was. Dried blood missed during washing dotted his face here and there.

“Papa,” he whispered, heartbroken. He reached out to lightly touch the affected area.

“Ah! Ah! Andrius, please. It’s sensitive still. The healer tells me it’s broken.” He inhaled hard and long, making a strange sound through his congested and swollen nostrils.

“Andrius . . .” the Regent gently urged him. They could not delay forever.

“Go, Andrius,” his father said with a tremor in his voice. He was crying and trying to hide it. “Daiva is asleep. Now is a good time. I’ll miss you for my sake, but it is better for you to be away from here. I should have protected you better.”

Andrius looked down. “You saved my life.”

Aleksandras warmed to a tired smile.

“Yes, I did. And now the village recognizes how special you are.” The old man stood up and pulled Andrius into a tight hug. “I know you’ll do great things.

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