SunRider: Book 1 (The SunRider Saga)

by Hohmann, Rafael

  Following the titanium vein, Finn marked his parchment, and then showed Goblin how to note minerals on his paper. The boy listened to his every word and tailed his every step. When the shift ended, Finn left the caves to take his break. At the bottom of the central mineshaft he passed Gunther. The bully scowled at him as was his usual routine. Finn was grateful another fight hadn't broken out between them like the day before. He regretted ever having mentioned his desires to see the outside world out loud. Finn had no idea why the words had prompted the volatile miner into harassing him.

  Above ground, while eating oat paste in the shadow of a boulder, he watched as the new adult recruits were fitted for their Sponge-Marble sandals. In the daylight, he could now make out their features. Many looked like farmers and scared refuges. Finn frowned. It didn't seem like there were any pick-pockets or pirates, they always had the best stories to tell. Even though one had a chance of walking away with their pockets mysteriously empty, Finn found listening to thieves’ tales worth it.

  He returned to the mines for his second shift, awaiting dusk when he could go to the barracks and overhear news from the world beyond. The work passed slow—Finn had to hold his patience in check as he was again dogged by Goblin. The boy was his shadow everywhere he went. When the day was finally over, Finn nearly climbed his pulley-rope hand-over-hand to get outside. By the time he found the new recruits in the eating area sitting at a large wooden table, many other miners had already crowded around. Finn jogged to the men, his ears perked, trying to catch their every word.

  “Oh sure,” one of the recruits barked, “times have changed. The land’s shadowed, I tell you. Rumors and whispers are spreading about.”

  Maggs—the large miner that’d stopped Finn and Gunther's fight—stepped forward with arms crossed. “Rumors you say?”

  The recruit nodded, a man of solid build and a strong tan. “Indeed! I was fishing off the shores of Lake Everston—had to catch my dinner you see—when from the dirt trail comes a half-crazed lone traveler. I could tell this was a man who'd once seen wealth in his life: some young buck with torn clothing and a rat-like complexion. All he had left to his name was a ring on his finger. He staggered to me with a wild look and warned me in these words: Beware fisher, men are awakening with demonic powers. Cities are burning. Strange magic’s running rampant!”

  Maggs coughed out, halting the tale. “Demonic powers! Sounds to me the young con was trying to swindle you out of a meal!”

  The recruit frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “I'm telling you like it was! You’re the ones who asked me to share news of outside!”

  The other miners shushed Maggs and urged the man to continue. The recruit shook his head. “I brushed the crazed traveler aside and stole his ring. Apart from that, the world’s the same: the rich tax the poor, them noble bastards run all the trade in Kazma, the king cares nothing for his people, and decent ale’s hard to come by.”

  The miners laughed, walking away to their respective huts. Finn rushed forward, and in an act of thoughtlessness, grabbed the man's arm. “Wait!” he spoke in a rush. “Is there any more? What of far-off lands? Wars? Voyages?”

  The tanned man shook him off, sighing and standing away from the table. “Look kid, I just got here. Having to run from the debt-collectors is one thing, but life in the mines will be difficult. I need my sleep.”

  The man brushed past Finn before he could protest, abandoning him with a bitter sense of disappointment. The crowds dispersed and Finn was left alone with Goblin, who’d been at the edge of the pavilion. Irritated, Finn waved a hand at the boy. “Go to your home and leave me be.”

  Finn stomped back to the edge of the limestone field and looked to the Slaglands. Hot wind dragged pebbles across the black glass rock toward his home. His frustration grew into desperation. He'd never escape and see the world.

  It was the first time in Finn's life someone was showing him genuine attention. Goblin followed Finn from the barracks to the mine, holding himself in check, as if worried that if he stepped too close, Finn would snap out. It made Finn hate himself for how he’d acted the night before. Someone finally looked at him with the attitude of friendship—with worth—yet he couldn't bring himself to return the act. Goblin had been through an adventure with him. They'd survived danger together. How could Finn brush that off? A hundred logical reasons for why he shouldn't interact with the boy ran through Finn mind. But acting on impulse, he caved-in with a sigh, concluding he didn't care anymore: he wanted a friend. He needed a friend.

  Finn looked over his shoulder. Goblin slowed his pace and in turn, Finn slackened his own stride, allowing the boy to catch up. Goblin tilted his head, perplexed, and Finn let out a genuine smile. “Hey Goblin. Hot day, isn't it?”

  The boy stared at him with wide eyes, mouth turning from surprise to a pleasant beam. He nodded, wiping his brow.

  “You don't talk much, do you? Can you talk?”

  Goblin shook his head, frowning in disappointment. He pointed to his throat.

  “Your throat-strings?” Finn guessed, “They don't work?” Goblin dipped his chin. Finn cringed, unable to imagine having such an awful impairment.

  Goblin pointed to Finn and frowned. “What?” Finn asked as Goblin pointed again.

  Goblin rolled his eyes and poked the bruise on Finn's face. Finn winced and felt the injury. “Oh yeah, that’s from the vat-pig that teased us the day before, Gunther. Watch out for him.” Goblin's hands mentioned for Finn to go on. Finn sighed. “I made the mistake of speaking out loud. I said I wanted to leave the Crust. Wanted to see the world.”

  Goblin pointed to himself and Finn, making a funny motion with two fingers. It looked to Finn like a man walking. He scrambled his brains to understand what the boy was trying to communicate.

  “You and I leave?” Finn snorted, struggling for words. “Ever felt as if you were meant for a different life than the one you were given?” He immediately shook his head. There was no point in wishful thinking. It wasn’t Gunther’s fists that had beaten the hope out of Finn. It was time. “We're getting distracted. Today will be a change from routine—we won't be doing any cave-diving.”

  Goblin gave him a questioning look.

  “Last night, miners cut free a large supply of solar gems. It'll be the cave-divers' job to sort and categorize them by size when the cart’s hauled up.”

  Goblin rubbed two fingers together, the universal symbol for money.

  “Yeah, they're pricey. Worth a lot more than we'll ever make. Oh, and don't think they pay you here. What you make only covers the cost of living and food. We're slaves. Look, they're drawing the cart up now.”

  The dark-skinned boy followed Finn's gaze toward a large square Mole-Hole. A metal cart full of white round rods was being raised by a wooden crane. Cave-divers slid a thick metal plate below the cart, covering the Mole-Hole. The cart was then lowered back down. Boys came forward with various bins marked in increments. Finn grabbed one of the bins and Goblin followed. Finn showed him what they were to do. “We'll sort out the small solar gems. Ones fit only for jewelry.”

  A supervisor yelled at them to get started. As they worked, Finn made rude comments about Gunther under his breath, humoring Goblin. Like a wave of water washing out of him, Finn spoke of his wish to escape, to be free. And once he started, he couldn’t stop. If felt good—great–to have a release. He talked of trees and monsters, cities and magical locations he’d only heard of. Goblin listened and nodded, smiling and doing what he could to communicate back. Had Finn made a friend? If so, Goblin was Finn's first. Exhilaration coursed through him.

  Finn sorted alongside Goblin until their bin was full and the burning sun hung straight above them. Each grabbing one end of the container, the boys wobbled their way over to a waiting cart, dropping the heavy bin into the vehicle. The two were patted by hired security paid to oversee that the cargo made it to where it was supposed to go. Finn was shoved around and had his shirt torn off. He didn’t fight back but held his t
ongue, accepting the abuse. Having found no stolen stones on them, the boys were pushed back to sort a pile of amethysts. Finn picked his shirt from the dirt and put it back on, patting himself down.

  At the end of the day, after separating and organizing a dozen different caravan shipments, they stood straight, wincing as their backs popped. They made their way over to the barracks for whatever pathetic dinner they'd be given. On the way there, a voice shouted out, drawing their attention. They turned, facing Gunther, who passed by with the look of one who’d come upon a large sum of money.

  “Talc and the new grub, side-by-side like two lovers! Hey Finn, you going to let him move into your hut?”

  Finn growled under his breath, wishing for nothing more than to shove Gunther into a Mole-Hole and watch him plummet to the bottom of the mineshaft.

  “How long you two gonna stay friends Talc? You think he'll die tomorrow or next week? He's not a veteran and he's not a mine-orphan. I bet he gets stuck in a cave and suffocates in three-days-time!”

  “Eat dirt, Gunther.” Finn growled, leading Goblin away from the laughing miner. Goblin gave Finn a look of worry and Finn shook his head.

  “Don't listen to him. You won't die in the mines. I promise.”

  Inside his hut, Finn was about to remove his shirt when he heard footsteps outside. He moved the curtain covering his door and found Goblin, standing with his head hung low. He held his fist out and Finn could tell there was something there.

  “For me?” Finn asked.

  Goblin opened his fist and pushed his hand forward. Finn took the proffered item and examined it. To his surprise, he found a small Solar gem interwoven with twine, forming a wristband. The knots holding the precious stone were intricate and beautifully designed. Beside it was a note written in thin scratch. For saving my life. Perhaps you can buy your freedom with it someday.

  Goblin!” he exclaimed in surprise. “You stole this for me?”

  Goblin made the motion of Finn hiding the object. Finn tossed the present onto his sleeping-pad before anyone could see it. He didn't worry though; he was at the edge of the limestone field after all.

  “How’d you sneak it away from the cart?” he stuttered.

  Goblin pointed to his mouth, a proud grin on his face. He stuck his hand out. Perplexed, Finn took it. Goblin shook it firmly. Making a shushing motion with his finger, he turned and left without a sound. Finn stood in the fading evening light, watching the boy go. In his mind, a thousand thoughts rolled over each other like a falling rockslide. He was overwhelmed. Could there be a weak fluttering wingbeat of hope in his chest? He possessed a treasure, albeit stolen. Yet he could care less whether it was illegal or not. House Crumm had stolen his life. It was only justice that he took something back. And of Goblin! The decision he'd made to befriend the boy was already changing his life. He owned something of value! No, he owned two things of value: a Solar Stone and a friend.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  Nozgull the EarthBreaker

  —Circa 1,744 E.E. (Economic Era-The 17th Era): The soothsayer, Yvonne the Talon-Walker, rises to power through subterfuge, controlling seven of the nine Lenovan Houses. The War of the Soothsayer begins and the capital of Lyria is razed. Many ancient artifacts and documents are destroyed. King Gabrin wins back power over the Houses after promising the House Lords each two cities of their choice to control and govern as long as each house swears permanent allegiance to the King. The political maneuver is dubbed “The Separation of control”. Yvonne the Talon-Walker is forced to swallow mortar and is tossed over the side of the floating islands to fall four kilometers to her death in the SeaLake below.—

  When Finn awoke to the sound of morning horns, his mind hand went straight to his wrist, grabbing Goblin’s gift. He gave a soft chuckle, wondering when and how he could use the valuable treasure to buy his freedom. Who could he sell it to without getting caught? A greedy merchant willing to smuggle him out of the Crust? And would it pay for both his and Goblin’s escape? After what the boy had done for him, he couldn’t leave his friend behind. Standing and rubbing his face to clean the grit from his eyes, Finn hid the treasure and left for breakfast and morning shift, contemplating the small sliver of hope he’d been given.

  He walked with a quick pace, thinking of how the day's monotonous work would be improved with a friend. Finn made it to the barracks, and being handed a piece of cactus-bread, chewed slowly, waiting for Goblin to arrive. The boy was running late. He doubted Goblin had gotten used to the sounds of the miners at night. He might have slept in, exhausted from uneasy rest.

  Before Finn could make up his mind on whether to go to the boy's hut and check on him, another horn sounded. The noise was quick and commanding. Finn recognized it: an emergency meeting. Following the other miners, Finn jogged to the outpost Hub nestled against the crags. The horns went off again and the miners increased their pace, not wanting to get into trouble.

  Finn frowned. Public meetings, even emergency ones, were rare; they interrupted with the work-flow. The last gathering had taken place the year before when a large section of mine had collapsed and supervisors instructed them on how to proceed. Two miners had taken advantage of the situation and ran away. The supervisors noticed, but let them go. Where could they have run off to but their death? Without a week's supply of water, there was no escaping the Crust. In the two-hundred years the mines had been operational, no one had ever escaped alive. Skeletons dotted the edge of the desert where miners had fallen to their deaths trying to scale the crags. Other skeletons littered the single road leading out of the outpost. The one place free of mummified remains was the Slaglands. With nothing beyond but black desert, no man—sane or not—dared travel there. Wondering whether any of the new miners would attempt escape, Finn reached the Hub.

  A well-dressed supervisor stepped forward, ready to address the crowd. It took a moment for Finn to recognize the form. With elaborate robes cut almost to look like the wings of a butterfly and a turban wrapped with golden ribbon, the House Lord cleared his throat. Finn had heard rumor that the man—Ublah-Kan—was a eunuch and a procurer of spice. The miners went quiet. “We’ve lost communication with the other two mine outposts within the Crust. As well, we have had no new merchants come up the Southern road. We have reason to believe these areas have been raided and pillaged. We have sent out some of the Hub guards, but they have not returned.”

  The men went into uproar, everyone shouting and exclaiming their worry. The House Lord raised a hand and all went as silent. The man’s eyes were sunken into his skull, as if having spent years trying to escape the harsh light of the sun.

  “We’ll continue operations as normal. We can’t treat this as a danger yet. Don’t fear, those that have invested their wealth in our products won’t allow us to come to harm! We’ll be alright. That is all.”

  Maggs stepped forward. “That’s all? This meeting can't be over! We need protection! What if it’s a large band of marauders?” Gunther and other miners shouted their agreement.

  A guard stepped forward and swung a wooden staff across Maggs’ head. The blow was hard enough to break the stick, yet Maggs, being a miner as tough as they come, only fell to one knee with a strained grunt. Gunther tended to Maggs while giving the supervisors a look of rage. Finn knew even Gunther wasn’t thick enough to fight back. Many of the supervisors carried gems with magical properties granting them subtle, yet terrifying power such as the Whistling Stone which when aimed at a man, could make his bones vibrate. If pointed at a target for long enough, every bone in the body would obtain stress fractures and begin to crumble. Finn had never seen it done before, but had heard from older miners such as Maggs, that it was a terrible scene to witness.

  The House Lord didn’t blink. “Don’t you risk your lives every day? Have you not grown accustomed to the dangers of the mines? You cower like children. Do each of you suddenly find yourselves in the need of comfort and a loving embrace?”

  Maggs licked his lips and wobbled back upright as the
other miners shuffled their feet. The House Lord continued, sneering. “Get back to work. We've already wasted enough time. All will be well. Serve the mines and the mines will serve you. It’s the standard we live by.”

  The miners shuffled off, many raising fists in anger as the supervisors turned their backs. One could nearly taste the fear and resentment in the air, a bitter flavor carried by the sand-laden wind. Had the other mines had been attacked. And if so, by whom? A guild of thieves? Finn couldn't imagine anything short of an army fighting a thousand strong miners.

  As the week passed, no merchants arrived, leaving the outpost quiet. Stress and worry built up, boiling under the edge of everyone’s skin. Many more guards were sent out to investigate the other outposts, but of all that left, none returned. The remaining Hub guards stayed near to the supervisors, numbering barely a score. If only the miners could be given weapons of their own to defend themselves… but Finn knew the House Lord Ublah-Kan would never take the risk. Through keeping them busy, unarmed, and focused on chipping rock, he could control them. Yet anxiety strengthened, blanketing the camp and even showing through the supervisors’ calm facades. They were harsher, jittery, and spent most of their time indoors. House Crumm and their elite were on the verge of barricading themselves in the Hub. The days passed and gems piled up in the mine, unsold.

  It was upon Finn’s second shift's end when a meeting horn called out, one for only the leaders of the mine. Finn, hanging by his rope from the central shaft, had to wait as he was raised to the surface before able to learn what was transpiring. As he pulled himself out of the Mole-Hole and detached his belt from the pulley rope, he gazed to the distance. All the miners and cave-divers around him were frozen. When Finn saw what they stared at, he froze as well.