Miriam nodded in acceptance. “Did our stories hold true? Tell us if our culture speaks truth.”
Finn looked about at the villagers. They stared back, awaiting his answer in earnest. Warmth overcame him. These people had accepted him, welcomed him in, and treated him with kindness. “Maintain your faith, it’s all true.” He shouted the words out, hoping all would hear. It was a sudden reaction, like a wildfire spreading across a dry field. All about him, smiles ruptured. Wide grins claimed the faces of each villager as they turned and hugged each other, patting their neighbor's backs and wiping away happy tears. Miriam embraced him. “Please, will you share at least a portion of what lay beyond?” Her words stilled the people and they listened with ears perked.
Being the center of attention made Finn's knees quiver. He'd never experienced so many stares. Licking his lips and fiddling with his hands, he cleared his throat. “The three races existed. This village has been watched and protected by the last of the Nature-kin. She’s been pleased with the people you've become. She—she’s now gone, but her love for each of you could be felt. Her name was Lady Tuliah. Her final wish was that Lenova wouldn’t follow the path her people or the others took. She wished for a time of peace. That—that’s all.”
All about him, the villagers shed tears. Their beliefs were proven true. So moved were they by Finn's words, some fell to the ground as if in prayer. Finn didn’t know how to continue. Instead, he stood there, feeling strange, as if he'd intruded upon something far bigger than himself. Tuliah's name was spread about, spoken with such love and holiness, it reminded Finn of a child snuggling with their mother. Miriam grabbed Finn's hands fervently, her smooth palms holding him tight. Her face was deep with gratitude, welling with joy.
“As speaker for Pittance, you have done a great thing for us today Finn StreamCrosser. A stranger to our customs—yet you risked your life on the belief of our stories. You've verified what we couldn’t.” About them, the villagers were nodding. Piscus and Goblin looked stunned. Miriam continued. “We’ll never forget your bravery! Your name shall be sung each year at our festival of Lith-Lamma, a part of a new tale: Finn StreamCrosser! Can you not feel it? The rejuvenation of our spirits? The energy seeping from the ground?”
The villagers cheered, hugging and dancing around each other. Again, the name StreamCrosser was spoken like wind carried through leaves. Finn was overwhelmed. He didn't know whether to bow in thanks or to raise his hands in the air. Of all reactions to what he'd done, he'd never expected this. Piscus and Goblin ran to him and both patted him in turn. A voice spoke out.
“Finn! Finn!”
It was a happy, higher-pitched voice full of excitement. There was a strange accent to it—a smooth chirpy sound. Finn looked about, turning his head to find who’d called for him. Suddenly, ice shot through his veins and fire wrapped his head, causing his mouth to drop open. The voice... it’d come from none-other than Goblin himself.
Goblin, his darker skin and brown short hair sparkling in the sun looked at him with the eyes of one reborn. He stood taller, as if a year older, and glowed with health. Finn remembered Tuliah's words back in the cave: I cannot grant you the power you seek in your bracer. Fate controls that wish. I shall give you something else. Your kind nature toward your friend changes him.
Lady Tuliah hadn’t been able to grant Finn's wish, but had still given him something of value: the miracle of his friend's voice.
“Goblin! You speak!” Finn shouted, grabbing the boy by the arms.
“I-speak! I-speak!” Goblin repeated, bouncing up and down. The two ran around each other, laughing and acting like fools. Piscus clapped and danced as well.
“Finn, my friend!” Piscus chortled. “Why didn’t you tell me you'd play the hero? We could have gone with you! You’re a sly devil, you! Look what you've done—the impossible! Accomplished a task none have succeeded in all of time! By the Nature-kin’s growth! Magic has restored Goblin’s voice!”
“You-healed-me!” Goblin stated at incredible speed, his words coming out without pause. “How'd-you-do-that? Was-it-your-wish? I—I-can-talk! I've-never-been-able-to-do-that! My-throat-tickles-when-I-do-this! Cat-dog-fish-tree-bird-life-death-food-milk-bread-honey-home-flower-crystal...”
“Make him stop!” Piscus fake-moaned, holding his ears shut. “He's no longer human, but a monster! Alas, my hearing!”
Finn laughed in wonder. It was as if he was in a dream. Who knew by one action, so much could be the result? He listened as Goblin recited every word he could think of, clapping his hands each time he pronounced one correctly. Around them, the villagers were pressing in, asking about Lady Tuliah. Miriam and the elders did what they could to form a barrier.
“Finn,” Piscus said with sudden seriousness, grabbing his shoulder. “May I ask this: what did happen beyond the stream?”
Finn stared at the horizon, over the tops of the trees. Clouds rolled by, the greatest of explorers, eternally moving into the unknown. With a path made long, a journey made wild…
“Much happened, Piscus. Much.” He faced the older man. “I must move on. I can’t stay. I have to follow my feet, that much I know.”
Piscus removed his hat and gazed into Finn's eyes. The man studied him for a while without saying anything. He smiled. “I feel history writes itself around you, Finn StreamCrosser. Lenova holds its breath when you speak. What I would give to be young and follow with you, wherever you may journey! Whatever you learned beyond the water, keep it safe and don’t share it with anyone but the most trusted of companions. Don’t even tell me. What you’ve learned is sacred. I can only advise you to follow it. Follow it closely.”
Finn accepted Piscus' words. They reflected the man's kindness, understanding, and goodness. Gratitude swelled within Finn. “Thank you Piscus.”
The man put his hat back on. “I take it you mean to leave today?”
“Now, if I can.” Finn replied. Piscus grinned. “Then let it be so, but allow me to fill your bags with food. I'm sure the villagers would kill me if I let you leave without enough supplies to feed an army. Look at them—already they adapt to the news you've brought.”
The villagers were gathered as one, talking with brows furrowed in concentration. Miriam left one of the conversations and approached them. “Already so much is changing.” she told them, excitement entering her voice. “As we speak, many of the villagers are now planning on traveling across Lenova to spread the word. Missionaries, they say—Tulian Missionaries—after Lady Tuliah, of course.” Miriam bowed to Finn. “We owe everything to you.” She left them, returning to her people.
“You-make-waves-Finn.” Goblin spoke, words coming out so fast it took Finn a while to process their meaning.
Piscus ordered two villagers to return to his inn and prepare bags for both Finn and Goblin. The men hurried off, each shaking Finn's hands and grinning broadly. The thought of leaving Pittance so soon saddened Finn. In the small time he'd been there, the village already seemed like home. He worried for it. With rumors of Star-Children walking the lands, how soon would one of them stumble across this peaceful place? Mulling over Star-Children, he turned to Piscus.
“Piscus, I must share with you a secret.”
The man tipped his head respectfully. Finn could tell the innkeeper's curiosity was nearly overwhelming him.
“Do you remember where you found Goblin and me? The exact location?”
Piscus' face changed to confusion. He nodded. “Yes. I do. What’s this about?”
Goblin stared at Finn in questioning as well. Finn knelt on the ground near a patch of dirt. With his finger, he drew a rough path from which Goblin and himself had traveled. Using lines for the trail, squiggles for the trees, and a circle for the destination, Finn traced a picture. “Follow along like this and head here.” He pointed to the circle, growing solemn. “Treat the place with respect. What you find there will represent my previous life—its death-spot. I won’t be upset if you bury it all. All I can ask is that you take care of it.
I trust you Piscus. What I do is dangerous. To show you this location could mean you much harm.”
“What lies in the forest at that location?” Piscus asked in caution.
“A vast sum of evil wealth.” Finn whispered. Goblin stiffened, now knowing exactly what Finn was talking about. Finn licked his lips and erased the map with a wave of his hand. “But what lies beneath that wealth is what truly matters. I won't tell you what it is out loud, but you'll understand when you see it. You’re not a man of greed. I believe you’ll care for it without using it.”
Piscus' face became one of deep contemplation. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He did so again three more times. Finally, he pulled off his wide hat and scratched his head. “By grace and grass! What are you involving me in, boy? Shall I end up thanking you or cursing you once I find this mysterious wealth?”
Finn smiled. “Both. But you’ll understand why I tell you this. I need friends whom I can trust Piscus. You happen to be one of those.”
“I take it there’s much importance to this?”
“Yes. No one else can know or find what lies in the forest. It’s already risk enough that it’s been left alone this long. When you return to the village, do so by night, when no one can see you.”
Piscus studied Finn. The innkeeper recognized the seriousness of the request. He patted Finn's shoulder. “Don't worry StreamCrosser. You can trust in me 'til your dying breath. You've earned this old man's loyalty.”
Finn’s shoulders relaxed. Nozgull's bracer would be safe in the care of Piscus. He knew the man had enough sensibility not to wield it, nor leave it where the world could find it. Soon after, the two villagers returned with their possessions and bags brimming with food. Goblin once more recited every word he could think of, enjoying the sound of his own voice. Piscus sighed and stretched his arms. Around them, birds flew, chirping and spinning in the air currents. The villagers of Pittance danced. In the distance, the Stream of Fate continued its confusing journey.
“Do you know where you'll be going?” Piscus asked.
“No.” Finn replied. “I'll follow my feet. I'm sure they’ll lead me to where I'm meant to be.”
They were silent once more, hesitant about saying goodbye. They'd known each other a short while, yet had taken like a nephew to an uncle. It was strange to Finn. Already in the small time he'd explored Lenova, he felt as if he'd lived a lifetime.
“May your adventure bring you much happiness young Star-Child. The people of Pittance will miss you, I’m sure.” Piscus said.
Finn gave him one final nod and turned, facing the road out of the village. The villagers approached him and Goblin, saying their own goodbyes. Miriam planted a kiss on their foreheads and gave Finn a small bottle of milk; a joke to that very morning when he'd first tried the beverage.
They walked away, leaving behind laughter and music. As the trees swallowed them and he pointed himself Eastward, Finn swore he saw a brief glimpse of someone familiar in the crowd. It must have been his imagination—he knew she was gone—yet maybe, just maybe, a set of green eyes twinkled in amusement, following his footsteps.
CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Lands of Wonder and Awe
—Circa 1,055 E.E. (Economic Era-The 17th Era): The city of HighFurl shakes for three days. A strange sound can be heard below the ground and ancient words whisper out from under the rocks. Upon the fourth day, the earth beneath the city collapses and the land is swallowed up. Thousands of holes appear all over the terrain. Two-hundred years afterwards, courageous humanoids seeking to mine for treasures settle in the terraformed land and rename it Kar.—
Now that Goblin could speak, Finn was finally able to have a decent conversation with his friend. The only subject not discussed was Nozgull, as every time the name was mentioned, Goblin went quiet. As for his life, the boy wove a tale much different than Finn had expected.
Goblin had come from a vast group of traveling gypsies. His people numbered in the thousands and traveled the plains of Lenova, living from the land, performing for money, and trading foreign goods. Goblin described his people like moving cities: swarming across plains, setting up oceans of tents overnight, and within days, leaving on whim.
Goblin, like the rest of the gypsies, was raised by their entire people. He’d only met his parents once, seeing them briefly at a tribal gathering. They’d shared a few words and moved on. Goblin was alright with it. The whole tribe were his parents—equal teachers.
His people often spread out into smaller groups, separating to various citadels so as to not compete for commerce. After a few weeks of trade, they'd all reunite. Being under the age of 16, Goblin hadn’t been allowed to sell, but instead had been forced to stay behind in the plains with the other children and learn the various arts of the gypsies. Unlike many of the other boys, Goblin was terrible at sleight-of-hand and thievery. Instead, he became a passionate cook, learning to make meals from the simplest ingredients.
“So how did you go from a life of travel to landing at the mining outpost?” Finn asked in curiosity, jealous of his friend. The boy had done so much traveling.
Goblin's face saddened at the question and for the first time in over a day, he went quiet. With a sigh, Goblin opened up. “It's-a-hard-story-to-tell.” he began.
Finn listened as Goblin explained one day being placed in a small tribe calling themselves the Whey-Weavers, a group specialized in selling seeds and plants. Loving food, he'd been happy with where he'd been assigned. Goblin told Finn of campfire nights under blanketing stars and sitting on vast plains, listening to talk of incredible trades and foreign animals.
The Whey-Weaver tribe arrived at their final city and the adults went forward to trade while the children and elderly stayed in the fields and set up tents. Two days passed and the adults didn’t return. It was unusual, Goblin described, for the adults only traded in the day and came back to camp at night. The gypsies didn’t have the money to rent rooms at an inn. But as the hours passed, no one came back.
Goblin's eyes glazed over. “We-waited-and-waited. Three-days-later-a-group-of-many-men-approached-our-camp. I-could-see-that-they-wore-our-clothes-but-were-not-our-people. It-was-then-that-the-elders-told-the-children-to-run. Unknown-to-us-the-town-we'd-entered-had-been-ravaged-by-a-large-group-of-bandits-the-week-before. The-adults-had-all-been-killed-and-had-all-they-possessed-stolen-from-them. Learning-that-we-were-out-upon-the-plains-the-bandits-came-for-us.”
Finn clenched his hands.
Goblin went on to describe his flight across the plains with his fellow children. Behind them, the elders were slaughtered. Trailing in their wake and grabbing at their heels, the bandits followed. One by one, the children were caught, until at last only Goblin and two others remained, uncaptured by hiding in badger dens. But thirst and starvation drew them out and Goblin was seized by the evil men. The group of Whey-Weavers were no more.
Greed consumed the men and all they could think of was how to make profit from the boys. After days of marching, the children were sold to slavers. Goblin told of weeks passed inside a wooden cage side-by-side with twenty other children. He’d gotten sick with a fever and didn’t remember much of the journey.
The slavers made their way to the Crust, where they sold the children to the supervisors, who had no qualms dealing with criminals. Last to go, Goblin was placed in the outpost Finn had resided in. He'd been made a cave-diver and the rest of the story, Finn knew.
Goblin assured Finn he'd made his peace over what’d happened. He patted Finn on the back. “Fate-works-in-strange-ways. Without-those-events-I-would-have-never-met-you. I-never-would’ve-faced-a-vat-worm-and-lived. I-never-would’ve-seen-the-power-of-a-Star-Child-and-lived. I-owe-a-lot-to-you! Even-my-voice!”
Finn snorted. “You owe me nothing. Without you, I wouldn't have had the motivation to leave the Slaglands. My body would still be out there, eaten by sand and sun.”
Time passed and they walked on, telling more stories of their lives and deepening their friendship. The
forest grew scarce and transitioned to grassy slopes and meals from Pittance were shared under clear skies. It was a peaceful few days of travel.
They traversed farms and passed houses, sharing the dirt path with worn crop-growers and men who lived off the land. They finally came upon their first large city: a stone-walled farmer's-market of a place called Wyrmroost, full of callous-handed workers and strong-jawed vendors.
Finn and Goblin used a small amethyst from Nozgull's pouch to replenish their food supplies. On their travels, the food from Pittance had all but gone, leaving but two dried apples. On a cobbled street they broke bread with a beggar, feeling sorry for his weakened state. In thanks, the beggar told them of rumors he'd heard.
“The king and House Royal do us no good.” the man croaked. “He's up far above the rest of us on those massive floatin' islands of Lyria. He don't care much for us ground-walkers here so far below 'im. They say he keeps his armies and men on those islands, guarding his palace and all those other rich nobles and their Houses. Only his Paladins are sent to the grounds below.”
“Paladins?” Finn asked.
The withered man nodded. “Yes, Paladins! Star-Child hunters!”
Finn's heart jumped. “You know of Star-Children?”
The beggar cackled. “Finn SunRider, right? Everyone knows of the Star-Children! They wander the lands and take over citadels with their magical powers. Some say a few of them can kill with a wave of their hands! Can you believe that? But others say good'uns walk about as well, protecting the people. They gather somewhere, but I don't know if much o' that's true.”
Finn stuttered over his words. “And of the Paladins? Why did you call them hunters?”
The beggar sniffed. “The king—he's so desperate to gain a bracer for himself. Ooh he was angry when they fell from the sky, choosing common men. It was a downright insult to 'im when he wasn't picked. So desperate is he to gain one, he sends out Paladins to capture a Star-Child and take their bracer by force! He’s tried to bribe other Houses with vast treasures for a bracer. Everyone knows that at least a couple of houses ‘ave captured a Star-Child or ‘ave one working for them as their champion. It’s all hush-hush but I’m certain House Glover and House Phure have Star-Children working for them now. Paid in the dark to do their slimy bidding.”
SunRider: Book 1 (The SunRider Saga) Page 17