by David Angelo
“You too,” Fin replied.
Chinaw disappeared through the flaps of the pavilion, leaving Fin alone to ponder all that he had heard on this late-night escapade. The flame in the lantern, which still hung from the tentpole, grew dimmer by the second before finally going out and submerging Fin in a sea of darkness. As he listened to the sounds of the forest, Fin wondered how anyone could live such a sad, depressing existence as Chinaw. Nowhere in all his life had Fin encountered such a tortured soul, someone with such a sense of self-loathing and personal damnation. Fin wanted desperately to help, to try to brighten Chinaw’s spirits and show him the sun once again. But could it be done? These questions plagued Fin even after he departed for his own tent and tried, for the second time, to fall asleep.
15
FIN WAS ROUSED EARLY the next morning after only a few hours of sleep. Talking to Chinaw had done nothing to help him relax and perhaps did more harm than good. Fin spent the entire night tossing and turning on his cot, with Chinaw’s words bouncing off the walls of his skull and invading his dreams. Questions about Chinaw remained at the tip of Fin’s tongue, but he was too afraid to ask anybody for fear of being thought nosy. Regardless of how many times Fin tried to bury the questions in the back of his mind, they kept coming back, like an obsessive itch that needed to be scratched:
Is Chinaw telling the truth, or did he make the entire story up just to get attention? If Chinaw really did lose his memory, how much of Kemp’s so-called “mind scan” was real? Did Kemp really give Chinaw the facts, or was she just jerking him around? Can Kemp really read minds? That seems kind of far-fetched. Then again, so does talking using the power of one’s mind. But what if she’s not using her mental power? What if she’s able to talk without moving her lips? Puppet masters do it all the time; why not her? And if she really is a scammer, is she fooling everyone, or is this joke all on me?
“Fin,” Rocklier called, “are you paying attention?”
“Um, yeah,” Fin replied, snapping back to reality. During his mental conversation with himself, Fin had completely forgotten that he was inside Rocklier’s study, listening to a lengthy lecture about how knowledge was the key to victory and whatnot. It was all part of an assessment Rocklier insisted on performing to see how much Fin knew, or didn’t. Straightening himself out at his desk, Fin tried to look as alert as possible, considering how tired he was.
“I see,” Rocklier said. “Am I keeping you awake?”
“No,” Fin said, widening his eyes and briskly shaking his head. “I feel fine.”
“In that case,” Rocklier said, turning to a map of Edon that hung on a wooden drawing board, “prove it to me by pointing to where we are on this map.”
Fin went to the map. After studying the crude, abstract outline of the landmass that he called home, Fin rested the tip of his claw on an area near the southwest coast.
“There,” Fin said. “About forty miles from the coast, in the state of Meld-Nus. Is that right?”
“That’s…” Rocklier started. But before he cast his judgment, he gave Fin’s observation a closer look. “…remarkably close. We’re actually closer to the border of Led-Ms-Nu, but that’s probably because you were calculating Notnedo’s coordinates.”
“Oh,” Fin said, nodding. “Yeah, that’s a learned habit of mine.”
“Which is completely understandable,” Rocklier said, “considering that you’ve lived in the same village most of your life. But for the most part, your calculations were pretty accurate. To be honest, I was expecting you to not be able to recognize that this was a map of Edon.”
“I’m not as stupid as I look,” Fin said with a grin.
“I never said you were,” Rocklier said. “And I take it you know where Sebeth is located?”
“Yep,” Fin said, pointing to a small oval on the map surrounded by drawings of a mountain range. “Right here.”
Rocklier nodded. “That saves me from having to teach you about geography,” he said. “You’re already ahead of the game compared to your peers.”
“That’s a relief,” Fin said, taking a seat at his desk. “But I wouldn’t call myself smart. I just happen to know some things, that’s all.”
“But knowing some things is better than knowing nothing at all,” Rocklier replied. “Just out of curiosity, who taught you these things?”
“Most of it was drilled into me by Alto’s sister,” Fin said, “when I lived at the orphanage. It was like our own little schoolhouse, which my peers and I would attend a few times a week. After I moved into the pub, however, the schooling more or less ended.”
“That’s not too out of the norm,” Rocklier said, taking a seat behind a large oak desk. “The public schools consider you educated enough once you hit puberty. But tell me, did you ever step into one of those schoolhouses?”
Fin shook his head.
“I envy you,” Rocklier said. “I had the displeasure of attending one of those parliament-run indoctrination facilities, where the teachers feed you lies that are designed to keep you oppressed. Your foster parents were wise to protect you, since letting you go to one of those Elder-forsaken hotboxes would’ve damaged your fragile young mind.”
“I’m not sure if that’s the reason why they chose to teach us at home,” Fin said, “but it sounds good enough for me.”
“Oh, I’d bet a year’s salary that Alto and his family were trying to shield you from the harmful effects of brainwashing. Anyone who thinks for themselves knows the school’s true intent.”
“And you came to this conclusion how?”
“When I stumbled across the Prophet’s Song,” Rocklier said, “buried among a collection of banned scrolls, in a cave not far from my home. I was younger than you when I came to the realization that most of what I had been taught about Edon, especially about its past, was little more than half-truths and whole lies, and in order to gain the truth, I devoted nearly five years of my life to scouring every inch of Edon trying to find it.”
“What did you find?” Fin asked.
“I’ll tell you,” Rocklier said, “once you answer my next question: How is your history?”
Fin leaned back in his seat and thought, his arms crossed in front of him, trying to remember anything he could about history, but nothing came to mind. “Define history,” he said.
“The history of Edon, of course,” Rocklier said.
Fin rubbed his eyes, but Rocklier’s constant stare made it harder to concentrate.
“It’s not very good, I take it?” Rocklier asked with a frown.
“I’m afraid not,” Fin said, dismayed and a little irritated. “Perhaps it’s because I’m too busy focusing on the future to worry about the past.”
Rocklier clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval. “It truly was a blessing that you ran into me,” he said, “because in order to function in the future, one must understand what happened in the past, so that we don’t make the same mistakes that our ancestors committed. However, what most Faranchies learn in their history classes is a botched, warped version of the original account, riddled with lies and deceit, such as the lie that there is only one Elder.”
“But there is only one Elder,” Fin said. “Right?”
“Wrong!” Rocklier said, rapping his fist on the desk. “There are actually three.”
“All right, come on now,” Fin replied. “Are you yanking my chain?”
“I most certainly am not,” Rocklier replied. He then proceeded to tell Fin all about Edon’s creation, and how Blizzard’s children were instrumental in creating the two species. When he finished, Rocklier sat back and smiled, beaming from ear to ear. Fin could tell he was in his element. If the battlefield was Chok and Black-Tooth’s domain, then Rocklier’s was the classroom. But his smile faded when he noticed how poorly his point had come across.
“What’s wrong?” Rocklier asked.
“Let me get this straight,” Fin said. “If we were created by another being, does that mean that Blizzard i
sn’t our creator?”
“Not quite,” Rocklier said. “All dragon life starts with her and her alone. Gale might have built our race, but we would just be motionless figures had Blizzard not made souls for us. So technically, Gale created our corporeal forms, and Blizzard created the souls that inhabit them. It’s the same story with the Cullidons.”
Fin scratched his head around the base of his spike, trying to comprehend the wave of craziness that Rocklier had fed him. It all seemed so confusing, and Fin was not sure if he should take Rocklier’s word or run from his cluttered tent screaming. “All right,” he said, trying to sound the least bit doubtful. “But why was this passage banned?”
“Put simply,” Rocklier said, “it’s another way for parliament to place Faranchies under Cullidons on the social ladder. High-ranking Cullidon officials and members of the church, who are mostly Cullidon, are taught this exact story in their schools and universities. We, on the other hand, are told that the Elder created the dragons of Edon directly and that the Faranchies were made inferior to Cullidons. It’s a way to make us submissive, as well as to keep the two races separate. Tragically, a lot of our history is treated this way. For example, I bet you also didn’t know that Faranchies were once on top of the social order.”
“Say what?” Fin asked, his frills standing tall on end.
“While very few records from that time remain intact,” Rocklier said, “I have discovered evidence that, hundreds of years before we were oppressed, the Faranchies were the dominant race on Edon. We outnumbered the Cullidons, which gave us more say in the old parliament. While we didn’t oppress the Cullidons in the same way they oppress us, there was fear among some Cullidons that a takeover was inevitable. That’s when a particularly intelligent Cullidon in parliament convinced the Cullidons that we were a threat to their liberty, and using parliament’s bottomless resources, he launched the oppressive regime that rules us today.”
This gave Fin some food for thought as he sat back and wondered what it would be like if Faranchies were put in control once more. But a ping on his conscience told him that, despite its appeal, it was not right to ponder this belief. While the thought of returning to an era of prestige for the Faranchies appealed to Fin, it also made him feel dirty, as if this were a sinful desire. Fin had no idea why he felt so guilty for something that seemed so natural to crave.
“Interesting,” Fin said with a nod. “Very interesting…”
“Isn’t it?” Rocklier said. “When I first found that out, I used to spend days fantasizing about what it would be like on top.”
“You think it’ll ever go back that way?” Fin asked.
“I hope not,” Rocklier replied. “Sure, it sounds tempting, but considering what separation of the races has done to Edonion society, I pray that it doesn’t happen again.”
Rocklier turned his attention from the map and took a seat at a large oak desk opposite Fin and rummaged through a pile of scrolls.
“Now that we’ve cleared that part up,” Rocklier said, “we can finish the rest of the assessment. We’ve already cleared geography and history, allowing us to move on to other subjects. Once we’re finished with your assessment, I’ll be able to understand your strengths and weaknesses and see which topics you need assistance with.”
“Then what?” Fin asked.
“Then I’ll teach you the things you need to know,” Rocklier replied. “However, I have a feeling that you know a lot to begin with, so I wouldn’t fret too much if I were you.”
This reassurance did nothing to brighten Fin’s spirits, which slowly faded as Rocklier concluded his sentence. Fin put on a brave face, but on the inside, he was slowly dreading the possibility of having to brush up on his least favorite subjects. Hoping that he remembered all that he’d learned from his time in the orphanage, Fin braced himself for the barrage of questions, the inevitable boredom, and the fear of disappointment that were to follow.
“Why exactly are we doing this again?” Fin asked.
“Because,” Rocklier said, “knowledge is the key to success, and the more you know, the more likely you are to neutralize your threats. Swords, guns, and arrows are all fine and dandy, but at the end of the day, your mind is the greatest weapon of all.”
16
THE ASSESSMENT TOOK UP the entire morning and most of the afternoon, and when it was over, Fin felt like his brain had been pounded in a butter churn. The results of Rocklier’s test would not be known for another few days, leaving Fin little to do but wonder at how well, or poorly, he had performed. Shortly after the assessment concluded, Fin found himself sitting alone by the dead campfire, leaning against the large overturned log, letting his mind wander. Black-Tooth and Kaw-Ki were out hunting, Chok and Chinaw were back in Notnedo checking on the pub’s status, and everyone else was minding their own business on this lazy afternoon. As Fin looked up into the blue sky, wondering if he should go inside the big tent and practice his weapon maneuvers by himself, he found himself craving his pipe. Unfortunately, Fin had left the only pipe in his possession sitting on the edge of the wagon during his ambush a week ago. It made the cravings even worse, making him feel hungry even though he had consumed a full breakfast. Instinctively, he picked up a twig off the ground and began to chew on the end, inhaling heavily and exhaling long, imaginary drags.
“Ya know,” said a sudden female voice, “where I come from, that’s a sacrament.”
Fin looked around, the twig still dangling from his lips, and wondered where the voice came from.
“Who said that?” Fin asked.
“I did, of course,” the voice replied. “Look behind you.”
Fin did as the voice commanded and saw Kemp standing near her tent, looking at him.
“What’s a sacrament?”
Fin asked. “What you’re pretending to do there,” Kemp replied without moving her lips. She quietly approached the campfire and took a seat next to Fin. “In the foothills herbs are smoked in order to expand one’s mind and bring one closer to the spiritual realm. The stuff that we use is actually stronger than what you’re used to.”
“That’s nice to know,” Fin said, tossing the twig into the charred firepit.
“You want some, I see,” Kemp replied. “But we don’t have any. Sorry. If you ever come to the foothills, I’ll make sure you can sample some.”
“How are you so…” Fin started. “Oh, I get it, you’re reading my mind, aren’t you?”
“Nailed it on the head,” Kemp said. “And from what I can tell from your thoughts right now, you don’t really believe that I’m being honest with you.”
“That’s not true,” Fin replied, trying to sound as honest as possible. “Why would I doubt you of all dragons?”
“Really, Fin?” Kemp asked in a condescending tone. “Don’t you know that you can’t lie to me? You can mask your voice as much as you want to sound like you’re telling the truth, but I can see past your words, and I know what you’re really thinking. In fact, not only do you think I’m being dishonest with you about my powers, you also think that I’m a complete hack.”
Fin gulped, realizing that Kemp’s powers were either genuine or she was just really good about telling if someone was lying. “You could say I’m a little skeptical,” he said.
“A little?” Kemp asked. “Here I am, talking to you without moving my lips, and you still think I’m pulling your leg.”
“Marionette performers do it all the time,” Fin said. “How do I know you’re not doing the same?”
“Sure,” Kemp said, “but then you wouldn’t be hearing it from within your head.”
Fin rolled his eyes. “I can say from experience that I’ve never had voices in my head before,” he said, “so how do I know you’re not just really good at it?”
Kemp walked over and paced in front of Fin. “So it seems that you’re one of those skeptics, who wouldn’t know proof until it hit him round the side of his head. How about this for thought: you’ve been thinking about Chinaw la
tely.”
“Wait, what?” Fin asked.
“I assure you that everything he sees in his dreams is true. He is not simply desperate for attention.”
“How’d you—?”
“Also, you need not worry about the story Rocklier told you about the three Elders. It’s true, just like your encounter with the Elder last week. In fact, everything Rocklier told you during the assessment was true.”
“But—?”
“And you’re also wondering why you feel so unclean when you think about how our race used to be on top of Edon’s social order.”
“Can I—?”
“Remember what Rocklier said: it’s separation of the races that caused Edonion society to fall apart in the first place. You were chosen to bring the Faranchies and the Cullidons back together, and this mode of thinking goes against everything the Elder desires for her children. The dirtiness you feel is your conscience attempting to scare these delusions from your mind.”
“Could you please—?”
“Let you speak?” Kemp asked. “Sure, ask away.”
“If you have psychic powers,” Fin asked, “then why doesn’t anyone else? How come I can’t read people’s minds or tell that they’re lying or speak with my thoughts?”
“It’s because you weren’t born with those abilities,” Kemp replied. “Psychic powers aren’t just some skill set that you acquire. It is a gift that you receive upon birth, which you then must hone and sharpen to the best of your abilities. I inherited this gift of mine from my mother, who was part of a long line of psychic Faranchies descended from the prophet Zoraxis. It was my grandmother on my mother’s side who opened my eyes to the spiritual gifts at my disposal. For several years, I lived with my grandmother in the foothills of Mount Hath, the ancient home of Zoraxis, where I learned to refine my gift and use it for my benefit and the benefit of others. My grandmother was there every step of the way, teaching me all the skills and abilities that I use on a daily basis. I owe everything to her, and even today, she continues to guide me on my spiritual path.”